


String Of Fate

by rubymilxs



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Romance, Blackmail, Body Horror, Byeler - Freeform, Closeted Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay Mike Wheeler, Gay Will Byers, Healing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Queerplatonic Relationships, Red String of Fate, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Wheeler Family Drama (Stranger Things), Will Byers Has Powers, byler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28605315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubymilxs/pseuds/rubymilxs
Summary: "All he does is just watch from a distance. That's more than okay with him."A story about change, healing scars, and ultimately finding love.
Relationships: Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Will Byers & The Party, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 30
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Deals with heavy themes/topics such as self harm/mutilation, depression, suicidal thoughts, etc. Proceed at your own discretion.)
> 
> slight warning for homophobic language this chapter.

It was another day and Will couldn't care less. He stumbles out of bed to the bathroom. 

The bathroom is functional and bare of any frills or unnecessary comforts. It looks exactly the same from when he was little. The entire house looks the same, to be honest. Only now instead of Jonathan's room in the far corner, it's El's, Jonathan having moved out when he promptly turned 18. Boarding at college. 

Jonathan told him how progressive New York was, how he was bound to meet someone there, but it was no use he already has a soulmate. Right here in boring Hawkins. 

His soulmate couldn't be a worse person. It's Mike, his old best friend, he hasn't talked to him, _really talked to him,_ in two years and he doesn't plan on it. Mike is a piece of shit now, hanging out with the very people who have bullied him for years now. Though Mike is an asshole, it's hard not to swoon over his good looks, as ugly as he is on the inside. 

The people at Hawkins High see that too. He's become a bit of a hot shot, having a new girl on his arm almost every week. It makes Will want to throw up when he sees him. He just wants to scream and tell them all he knew Mike first and they're soulmates, but, of course no one would believe him. Leaving him to be a laughing stock for yet another reason. Why does his soulmate have to be Mike _fucking_ Wheeler? The most heterosexual person in the goddamn world?

_Okay._ Maybe that's an exaggeration but still. 

Mike's never out right mean to him like the others are. He just lets them kick him around like trash. Even Lucas who never talks to Will anymore, doesn't act _that_ way around him. 

Ever since he was little he's seen the red strings. His and others. He's ' _gifted.'_ Called a _'miracle_ ', a ' _seer.'_ He's never helped anyone find their soulmates though, as his mother told him long ago it would be dangerous to tell anyone. But of course people knew. Those people being his mother, Jonathan, El, Max and Dustin. He only told his closest friends last year. He probably would have told Lucas and Mike if it wasn't for-

Yeah. He sees his and Mike's strings, they're attached. He saw them the first day he met Mike, on the swings. They're soulmates. And yet, Will doesn't make any effort to do anything about it. If he did, Mike would know and that would be horrible. _Really._ All he does is just watch from a distance. That's more than okay with him. 

Why can't his soulmate just be someone like him? Someone actually, well, gay. Someone who isn't a big asshole, someone who was like Mike before-

And there it is. _Him not being able to get over Mike._

He thinks about it often. Cutting the string. Just taking a scissor and cutting it. And then he'd be fine for good. _No more Mike. No more crazy_. But that's not how it works, he'd probably die if he did that. Mike would too or just get really sick. Even if he wants to cut the string, he can't, he just _can't_ do that Mike. 

If you rebel against your soulmate it will eventually catch up to you. So, Will doesn't get how Mike can have so many girlfriends without getting sick. It doesn't matter because Will is getting over him.

 _No matter what._

__________________

Will climbs out of the car, shutting the door with a bang, El does the same out the passengers. 

They often park a block or two away from school as they don't want the car to get vandalized. Will had inherited it from Jonathan about a year ago, it might be old but Will loves it anyways. 

Will drives everyday, to school, to work, to anywhere the (remaining) party members want to go. 

"Another amazing day at Hawkins high, am I right?" El says, her tone conveying the fact she doesn't believe that at all. _Not one bit._

El is target for hateful comments too. People didn't know what she went through and why she's in the special ed class, being not up to 'standard' with what a normal 17 year old is supposed to know. So, they bullied her because if someones different from you, they're automatically horrible! _A freak! A queer! A fag! A lesbo!_ And any other offensive names they could possibly think of. 

"Ugh, I have english first period. With Mrs. Crenshaw." Will rolls his eyes. 

"Take out your books, class! Today we're gonna be reading 10,000 pages of Romeo and Juliet!" El mocks, in an old lady-New Jersey accent. Will lets out a little laugh. Sounds just like Mrs. Crenshaw. The high pitched squeaky voice that makes you just wanna tear your hair out when you hear it. 

Oh, also, Mike's in that class. Making stupid jokes that his friends find funny. They aren't. It was always the same sexist shit that guys like Mike, with fragile masculinity, found to be the most hilarious thing in the world. Mike's so stupid. Stupid, with his wavy black hair that always swishes in the right way, his pink puckered lips that look so soft, his dark brown eyes that you could get lost in. 

_Fuck. Will **really** needs to get over him. _

"Whatcha thinking about?" El pushes Will's shoulder, playfully, as they approach the entering to the literal gates of hell, as Will liked to think of it. "You're thinking about _him_ , huh?"

How does she know? Even after she lost her powers, most of them anyway, she still has this crazy intuition. Or maybe it's just knowing her brother by now. 

"Yeah." Will says unwarily. 

They enter school and as soon as they do they see Dustin and Max in the far corner probably arguing over something. 

"Will! Just the person I wanted to see." Dustin calls out, walking over to them. Max followed closely behind. 

"He only says that because he needs your opinion on something." Max rolls her eyes. 

Dustin looks back to her with a hurt expression. "Uh, no, also cause he's my best friend. Anyway.." He turns to Will. 

Max comes over to where El is standing, they talk in hushed tones about something, Will can't hear exactly what. 

"Max thinks Star Trek is better than Star Wars. Tell her she's wrong." 

Both El and Max are both turned back to the conversation. Max looks at Will with an empathetic expression, as to say ' _choose my side!_ ' and Dustin makes almost the same exact face, it's uncanny. 

Will sucks his teeth, pretending to be thinking. Although he already knows his answer. Definitely Star Wars _. I mean, there is no comparison_. 

"Sorry, Max but I'm gonna have to go with Star Wars."

And he then sees Mike. Standing all alone, fumbling something into his locker. God he looks good today. Why'd he have to be so hot-

"He's looking at him again." Max points to Mike. 

Dustin responds in the same sort of disappointed manner. "Yeah, totally." 

"You need to get over him already." Max says and both Dustin and El nod their head in agreeance. 

_They know Mike is his soulmate. How could he?_

"I know but I can't help the fact he's so hot." Will swoons. 

"He's alright." Max replies. 

"Plenty of hot fish in the sea. Right El?" Dustin asks, winking to El. Of course he's winking to El, she's Mike's ex girlfriend. 

"Yup." El nods her head frantically, a grin playing on her lips. 

The halls are crowded with people, it's chaotic. There's always the couple that's making out on the left side of the hall, and about ten feet farther down, the so-called 'popular' girls. Opposite them, the jocks and 'popular' guys, and between them, the parade of band geeks with their huge instrument cases. And then there's them, the party. 

The halls are dressed in black and white and the tiles are a checker board with humans as the pieces. The whole building sends a chill down Will's spine and reminds him of something out of his nightmares. He does not want to be here, and crosses his arms around his irregularly chilled body; _this is the last place he wants to be._

The school hallway must have been designed by a manic, either that or someone obsessed with the bland color grey. The teachers have done their bit, hanging posters in primary colours, yet the overall impression is of drabness.

Will is suddenly flown into the prison-hued wall; standing still for too long is never a good idea. 

Dustin looks like he wants to do something, as he usually does, being overprotective of Will. 

"It's fine, honestly." Will stops him by grabbing his wrist. El and Max, looking ready to do something as well. 

"I'll see you guys later. I have to go put my stuff in my locker anyway." He backs away, giving one last look to his friends. 

Dustin comes along with Will as his locker is right beneath his. And upon walking up to his locker, he sees the word _'FAG'_ in dark black marker tattooed onto it. 

He sees who did it. Mike's friends, laughing in the corner at him. Mike is with them. Their eyes lock, Mike is wearing an almost sorry expression, not participating in their laughter. But Will couldn't care less as he breaks the gaze turning back to Dustin. Dustin's fists clenched. He looks ready to punch someone in the face for Will. 

"No. Dustin!"

He knows it's too late as Dustin marches over to the group of jocks ( _+Mike, who has zero muscle for that shit)._

He hears they're conversation as clear as day. Will just wants to scream and everything would be over. He would be back in his room, huddled underneath blankets, warm and cuddly. That's where he wants to be for the rest of his life; _maybe even die there._

"Can I talk with you Wheeler? Alone?" 

Mike doesn't even get the chance to respond before one of his friends say, "Oh, look, the fags little boyfriend came to protect him." The other two explode into laughter. 

And that's when Will has to walk away. He can't take it anymore. 

Hesitantly he walks up to Mrs. Chrenshaws homeroom door. This is it, this is where his actions have led him, he slowly opens the door, which lets out a tired old groan as the hinges protest. Laughter sounds along the halls, joined with excited conversations and shouts. 

He peeks inside the room, groups of high schoolers sit around the room laughing and causing all kinds of ruckus. 

"Alright class. Settle down." The teacher says in her very annoying voice.

Will takes his seat in the back. 

"Today we'll be discussing Romeo and Juliet." 

___________________

Will is lounging in his room, the day already passed. The night falling and the moon rising up in the night sky. He has on his bedroom light, working on a new drawing. 

It's one of Mike. He usually draws Mike when he feels especially lonely. Actually, he draws Mike because he misses him and wants to see his face more. He still knows every little detail of his face. Even how many freckles he has. That's how much time he's spent adoring him over the years. 

He sticks his tongue out a bit, trying to work out a way to draw his lips. He kept messing up, erasing, leaving his bed filled with rubber shavings. 

Will has gotten pretty good over the years. Drawing and all. It's more than a hobby to him. It's a way of life by now. Something that keeps him going.

"Will!" El calls out, bursting into his room without any warning. He quickly flips to the cover of his sketchbook hoping she didn't see. 

"You won't guess who I talked to." She settles down on his bed across from him. 

_Who? And why is she so excited?_

"Lucas." She says, a smile painting her face. "Me and Dustin saw him outside, after school." 

_And?_

"His birthday is this Friday." 

Will knows. It's his 18th. _Friday is in just 3 days though._

"And he invited us to go to his house. Just us. The original party." 

If you wanna get technical the original party was him, Mike, Dustin and Lucas. Then realization hits Will like a truck. Lucas invited them, just them. Probably Max too but not him. He didn't invite him. 

Will crosses his arms, "He didn't invite me, El." 

"No, no. He did. He told me to tell you that you're invited to. Of course Mike's coming too. But it's gonna be great, us all together again!" 

No one knew exactly why he and Mike had split apart so suddenly. It was on Will's do not ask list. He got upset every time someone brought it up so the party didn't ask him about it anymore. Max, Dustin and of course El sided with him while Lucas sided with Mike. 

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea." 

"Oh, come on." She slaps at his knee. "You have to get out more. Maybe talk to your soulmate." El wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. 

"Ugh." Will throws his head back. "I don't even wanna talk to him. Let alone be in the same room with him." 

"Why?" 

She just had to bring it up. 

"It's complicated, El." He turns back to her. 

"How?" 

"It just is." 

"But why?" 

His voice was getting increasingly louder, "I don't know!" 

"Maybe if you tell me I could help you!" She shouted back. 

Maybe telling someone after two years would be good. Healing for the soul. 

Will loosens his shoulders, relaxing his body. 

He tells her all about what happened, she's very clearly shocked and angry at Mike. 

"Now promise me you're not gonna do anything to him." After everything Mike did to him, said to him, he still looks out for his well being. After a moment of not responding he calls out her name, "El!" 

"Fine," She says, jaw set, "Don't expect me to not hold a grudge." 

He thinks she's the best sister he could ever ask for. 

_______________________

Joyce had just come into his room to tell him goodnight and somehow it turned into a full blown conversation and Will telling her he thinks about cutting his string. 

"Don't ever do that baby." She tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear. "Don't give up hope." She pulls him into a hug. One that makes him feel like a little kid again not like a 17 year old-almost adult. 

He had never told his mother about his falling out with Mike but she knows. She has that motherly instinct. 

Will still isn't sure about Lucas's birthday but he is going to listen to his mother. _'Don't give up hope_ '. He won't give it up, not just yet. 

_He can't get over Mike. It just isn't possible_. 


	2. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The old Mike would stand up for Will against those types of guys, not become friends with them. He had to constantly remind himself he knew nothing about 17 year old Mike. This new version of him. The new version that had like a million girlfriends every week. 
> 
> Will knew everything you could possibly know about a person, about Mike. The old Mike. His best friend. He knew his favorite lunch, Peanut butter and turkey (a weird combination but Mike seemed to like it), his favorite shirt, that polo with the blue and white stripes, his favorite book, Frankenstein, his favorite candy, Kit-kat, his favorite band is The Smiths though he'll lie and say Van Halen.  
> 
> 
> It hurt when Mike cursed him out. When he told Will he couldn't be friends with him anymore. It's been more than two years and Will still can't get over it. He depended on Mike so much. He thought things would stay the same forever but that was a little presumptuous of him. Maybe he's stuck in the past. But there's no way he couldn't be, so much shit happened to him. He lost so much time, innocence. Mike shouldn't have just left like that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning - mentioned past child abuse.

"Will!" Dustin shouts from down the hall, Will zips his head around, watching Dustin run up to him. 

Dustin had actually shed his baby weight, gaining muscles _(with help from Steve)_ and became Will's sole protector. Even if he didn't ask for that. Dustin's just trying to be a good friend. He could protect himself just fine, he just didn't like all that confrontation. 

It's better to just talk it out rather than punch someone in the face. _Then again he thought about punching almost every stupid person in school on the regular._ Will's self esteem is just _extremely_ low. 

Dustin swings his arm around Will's shoulders, making practically everyone down the hall stare at them, with disgusted looks. 

"Stop it." Will says, trying to take off his arm but Dustin effectively stops him."They're gonna say things about you." 

"Let them." He smiles. "I don't care." 

_Dustin really is the best at not making him feel like a freak._

"So…" He drags out the word. "Did El tell you about Friday? Are you coming?" 

_No. Yes. Maybe?_ Will has no idea yet. 

"I don't know, Dust." 

"It's gonna be fun! Promise, it's just gonna be us." 

"Yeah _but_ Mike is gonna be there." 

"Yeah…" 

Dustin retracts his arm. "I don't get you." He shakes his head, lowering his tone to only a volume Will could hear. "You're so into him but you don't even talk to him anymore. And you act like you don't want to." 

"That's because I don't." Will replies, blandly, as if they're discussing the weather. 

"I know you don't like talking about it but what even happened? Did you guys like break up or something?" 

_'Break up.'_ Really? They were never even together. It was a friend break up not a break up- break up but it hurt all the same. It probably hurt more than a regular break up. Getting 'dumped' by someone you've known since kindergarten. Mike was very clear about where he stood. He's _strictly_ straight. 

Will scoffs a bit upon hearing Dustin's rather unique word choice. "We were never together." 

After their fight, the party quickly learned Mike and Will were the glue that held them together. Without them they just didn't function. So, like how these things usually go, they split apart, even now the remaining party members don't play D&D. Will always refuses. And Dustin and Max always pester him about it. D&D just reminds him too much about Mike. It hurts playing without him. It's like he actually can't physically do it. 

"Oh. So the problem was that you wanted to be?" 

There's beat of silence as they walk. 

"Yeah. I guess. Something like that." 

He really doesn't wanna get into it right now. 

"Shit we're late." 

They run down the hall, and into math. Late. Again. The kids in the class have a running gag about Dustin and Will, and why they're late, almost every day. They just walk slow. To say the least it pisses Will the fuck off. Why can't they just shut up, for once in their goddamn lives? And not terrorize every single person that doesn't have the _exact_ type of personality as them? 

The type of personality that irks Will to his very core. Will has no idea how Mike can put up with those assholes. _Well, he is one of those assholes now._

The old Mike would stand up for Will against those types of guys, not become friends with them. He constantly has to remind himself he knows nothing about 17 year old Mike. This new version of him. The new version that has like a million girlfriends every week. 

Will knew everything you could possibly know about a person, about Mike. The old Mike. His best friend. He knew his favorite lunch, Peanut butter and turkey (a weird combination but Mike seemed to like it), his favorite shirt, that polo with the blue and white stripes, his favorite book, Frankenstein, his favorite candy, Kit-kat, his favorite band is The Smiths though he'll lie and say Van Halen. 

It hurt when Mike cursed him out. When he told Will he couldn't be friends with him anymore. It's been more than two years and Will still can't get over it. He depended on Mike so much. He thought things would stay the same forever but that was a little presumptuous of him. Maybe he's stuck in the past. But there's no way he can't be, so much shit happened to him. He lost so much time and innocence.

Mike shouldn't have just left like that. 

_______________________

Will stands by the register, leaning on the counter. Eyes glossing over the entire arcade. Rows of machines with colorful pictures on the sides, glowing screens, toggles, controls, buttons, coin slots, ticket slides. Thin patterned dark blue carpet, neon lighting that isn't turned off even during in the day time, the arcade looks exactly the same as it did when he was younger. 

The entire place smells of cherry coke and hair spray. A smell that Will has gotten used to over the years. 

It brings about nostalgia. Will remembers coming with the entire party, _the original party._ The feeling of slippery cold coins in his sweaty palm, slipping them into the slot, jabbing at buttons, slamming his hand against the side of the machine in frustration, grabbing a drink for a quick slurp before the next level kicked in. And of course this place is associated with the mindflayer, as well. Not all happy memories. 

But now having someone to help him through his panic attacks is great. Robin is great. He had actually gotten the job through her, and she was recently promoted to manager, only having Will under her thumb. It's also nice having a gay friend. Someone who gets his struggles. 

The place is like a ghost town now, no one comes in there anymore. Only the occasional friend group and one offs. It means less work for both Robin and Will so it kinda worked out, even if it wasn't the most exciting place to work at. 

"Hey, have you heard from Steve? The dingus didn't answer any of my many phone calls." Robin asks, huffing a bit after she finishes her sentence, he knows she's upset about Steve not answering. 

He sees her pushing a hair out of her face, wearing a less than happy expression. 

Steve actually now worked next door, at the video store. Coming over very frequently to hang out with both Robin and Will. Calling Will ' _one of his favorite children'._ Dustin, of course, is in front of Will. Max, and El tied, a close third. 

If he didn't pick up the phone it meant he's probably studying for some test. In the last year he finally got his shit together and applied to Purdue. The only college he could get into with his less than stellar high school transcription. 

Will had come to learn Steve actually isn't that dumb, and is cool. He had evolved over the years, shedding his ' _King Steve'_ popular guy phase. Something Will hopes Mike would do. He heard about everything he did for them when he was lost _and_ possessed. Saving his brother and Nancy, leading the demo dogs away from the tunnels, taking care of the kids. 

He understood why they all were so attached to him. He's like they're collective older brother, even if Will already has the best big brother. Steve picked up on Mike's behavior as he began to hang out with them less, he and Robin know about the split. Not the exact reason but they know. As Will knows that Jonathan, Nancy, his mom, and probably the moms of the others know. 

It was strange being inseparable and then splitting apart all the sudden. But it did happen, as strange as it was. 

"I haven't, I saw him last like two days ago, he's probably studying for some final at his apartment." 

And to this Robin rolls her eyes. If she's upset over not seeing her best friend from two days ago, imagine two years. _Two fucking train-wreck years._

"He's so annoying sometimes." She drags out the ' _so_ ' for maximum effect. "How hard is it to answer a phone?" 

Will knows she's not looking for an answer so he simply gives her a sympathetic shrug, turning to face the other side of the wall. Cleaning up a few coke bottles, and chocolate wrappers that Robin had forgotten to throw out. 

He hears the doorbell chime, _finally a customer._ It's been slow all day. He hears the footsteps of this person, echoing sharply around the deserted arcade. 

Then he hears Robin and he knows he's fucked. "Hello, _mini_ \- Wheeler, what are you doing here?" She says in her oddly calm voice. One that can either soothe or frighten you. 

Will wishes he can be like Robin, brave, a badass. Sometimes he even wishes he can be like Max, someone who doesn't take anyone's shit. But he can't, for some reason it just doesn't work, he's stuck being himself.

He's stuck being Will.

He spins around and sees Mike standing right by the counter. He's wearing a blackish grey shirt that reads ' _frankie says relax',_ with black (very tight) jeans on and combat boots that look almost identical to Will's. His wild curly hair, dropped around his pale cheekbones. 

He looks like your average rock star. _Funny_ because he always had the worst music taste, at least when Will knew him. 

And Frankie says relax? The two lead singers of Frankie goes to Hollywood are openly gay. It's a well known fact. The music video, Relax, was so gay it was literally banned. Will saw it though. Mike probably did too. So, Mike wearing that shirt makes Will's blood boil. He doesn't know what type of game he's playing or why he's even here. 

Mike adopted Will's style in the last year or so, Will had long ago bid farewell to the striped shirts and the plaid button ups, opting for Jonathan's mostly black, hand me down oversized shirts which had their favorite bands and artists on them. He usually tucked them into his loosely fit jeans. He got rid of his bowl cut almost 3 years ago, talking on a haircut that sort of mirrored Jonathan's old one. A slick swipe of gel to keep it in place. The last touches? The paint plastered on his jeans, his combat boots and silver rings. 

Mike's eyes widen. "Will?" 

_Why the hell is he here?_

"Mike?" 

Robin is eyeing the two, the same expression she had earlier still playing on her lips, but she looks like she resents Mike. And Will has to wonder why. Does _she know- No, that isn't possible. Is it?_ His friends are just super protective of him. He still absolutely hates being treated like a baby. 

"You work here?" 

"Yeah. Have been for a while now." Will brushes his hand through his hair, trying his best not to freak out from being face to face with Mike. 

And during that movement he sees the red string pull Mike's wrist closer to him. He curses whatever god there is, _this really isn't funny._

"Of course you wouldn't know that." Robin snaps. Will sends her a ' _stop it!'_ expression. She shrugs her shoulders, basically meaning _'what? It's true.'_ and that he can't argue with. It is true. As sad as it is. 

Mike looks uncomfortable as he turns down to the patterned carpet. Will has to ease the tense situation, _it's getting awkward._

"So what are you doing here? I'm guessing you're not here to play Dig Dug, right?" 

This gets a smile out of him. And Will thinks he's never seen anything better. Mike's smile is contagious. 

"I'm never playing that game again, Max rocked my ass off." 

Will grins. "Just the price of being a shitty player." 

It oddly feels like time never passed. Like things are back to normal. Regular. But Will knows that's not what this is. His smile quickly fades and so does Mike's, remembering all that happened between them. 

Mike touches the back of his neck with his finger tips, something Will knows is a nervous tick, Mike's had it ever since they were little. Guess he didn't outgrow it. Mike never had it around him though, but things change. They always do. 

Will keeps repeating the phrase in his head, ' _don't get stuck in the past, don't get stuck in the past, don't get-'_

"Dustin actually told me to meet him here." Mike cuts through Will's internal monologue. 

_Why the hell would he tell Mike to meet him here? Of all places?_

_Wait. Holy fuck-_

"Why would he tell you to meet him here?" 

The door swings open and there he is everybody. Dustin Henderson! The world's worst plan executor! If he wanted him and Mike to talk, Will would have to break it to him that it didn't go as stellar as he had hoped. It didn't end in them confessing their true feelings or whatever the hell Dustin wanted. It just started and ended in an awkward manner. 

"Wheeler! Byers! Robin!" He throws his arms up, smiling, like he's so _fucking_ happy to see all of them. 

Robin now has an amused expression on her face, watching Dustin as he walks up to the counter right next to Mike. "This was you're doing huh?" She motions between Will and Mike. 

Will internally slaps his hand to his face. Why'd she have to say it like that? It just makes it sound weird. 

Dustin nods, still smiling. Both Will and Mike's expressions fall flat, sharing very irritated looks with one another. Will's planning on talking Dustin's ear off about this. "Anyway, can we use the back room?" 

"Why do you need the back room?" Robin asks, her eyebrow quirked, to their secrecy. Will knows Robin all too well by now. He knows what her facial expressions mean. And this is, _do you have any secrets to hide?_

"We just need the back room." 

"You can't talk out here?" 

"Rob," Will says, looking at her. Then turns and faces Dustin and Mike. "Let them use the back room." 

"Fine. You have ten minutes, children! Ten minutes and then that's it." 

A flush of ' _thank you's'_ come from Dustin and Mike, passing both Robin and Will on their way to the back. 

It's been more than ten minutes at this point. They've been in there for 20 by now. Will keeps on wandering back to what they're talking about but then quickly stops himself, they're allowed to have private conversations. But he doesn't get why Dustin chose to talk to Mike _here_. They could have talked literally anywhere else. It's clear, Dustin wanted them to talk to each other. 

He really hopes Dustin's not talking about him. Or the soulmate thing. Although Will knows Dustin's a good enough friend to not bring that up. 

"Hey! I said ten minutes!" Robin yells outside the door, turning back to Will smiling. She walks back up to him with a slow stride. "What do you think they're talking about?" 

Will shrugs, his arm extended on the counter, cupping his cheek. "I have no idea," he sighs. 

"Wheeler copied you, you know." She pokes at his shoulder. 

"Well if you wanna get technical I copied you and my brother. I took basically all his old clothes and this," He holds out his hands, showing her his rings. Then he points to his tucked in shirt. "All you." They smile at each other.

"Did you see his shirt?" 

Will nods, he sure as hell did. 

"I mean ' _Relax',_ you've seen that video, right?" 

_Yup._

"Literally super gay." Will responds. 

Robin raises her eyebrows, "You think he's…" 

"No." Will replies in a split second. "He's a prick, Rob." 

It's her that sighs this time, "I thought me and Steve taught you kids better." 

Mike oddly reminds him of Steve. How he was back then. When he was playing _'popular_ ' guy. 

"He's like Steve. Like reverse Steve." 

She quirks her eyebrow. "What do you mean?" 

"Steve used to be an asshole right? But then he became better over the years, he stopped trying to chase popularity and what other people wanted. Mike's like that but reverse."

"Probably scared of what would happen if he accepted himself." 

"He's **_not_** gay." 

"Mmhm." She says in an unconvincing tone. Robin doesn't believe it for a second. 

"What does ' _mmhm'_ mean?" He mimics her tone. 

She shrugs her shoulders, walking over to the vending machine in the corner of the arcade. Out of her pocket she takes a couple quarters, drops them in the slot, presses 'B-9', Skittles. 

Robin strolls over with a smug expression, jiggling the Skittles. She tries extra hard for Will to see the phrase on the wrapper. ' _Taste the Rainbow'._

She's clever, Will gives her that. He grins as she pours the small chewy candies into his extended hand. "I bet you $20 he is." 

"Deal. It's on, Buckley." 

The door swings open, a very rushed Mike walking out, Dustin following. "Bye, Will." He says, already on the other side of the counter. 

"Bye, Mike." 

And in a second he's gone. The boy who Will is literally in love with, even if he doesn't want to admit it. 

_What the hell did they talk about?_

Will looks at Dustin, "What did you say to him?" 

He smirks. "Nothing much." 

"Dustin!" 

_____________________

Will looks into the trees. Except for a few shreds of moonlight, the woods are as dark as a shut closet. He has no idea why he decided to go for a walk at one in the morning. A walk in the woods. Maybe to visit the remains of Castle Byers, moping. 

Will shivers and presses the cold cigarette to his chapped lips, hugging the paper weapon as he clicks the lighter to life and lights it. Eyes contaminated by loss and pain as they slid shut while he inhales the precious chemicals like they are his life support. The sweet toxins fill his lungs and he exhales his relief in a cloud of grey smoke. It swirls upwards, devouring everything in a cloud of smoke, in it's delicately deadly path before curling into nothingness once again. The pale substance is a ribbon of death, and he gazed, transfixed at its thin folds as they ebbed away, dragging his health with them. 

It's a coping mechanism, it's his mother's too. Maybe that's where he got it from. After the whole Starcourt incident, he started smoking. All the shit he went through was just too much for him. The trauma. The loss. The legal age was 16, and being only two years under that wasn't that big of a deal. He got his cigs from a pharmacy at the edge of town. It was sort of sketchy, not asking for an id, but they gave him his supply so he was fine with it. Then last year, they raised the age to 18, and yet he _still_ found a way. 

He takes a deep drag and exhales the smoke into the air, watching it disappear into the night sky.

Will approaches (the remains of) Castle Byers, a figure sitting down on a log. It strikes a little fear in his heart. He can't see who it is, or, what it is. _What if it's the demogorgon? Coming back for him? Coming to kill him, coming to-_

Then he sees the figure, it's Mike. _Why the fuck is he here?_ _Why is he everywhere all the sudden?_

"Mike?" He takes another huff from his cigarette, exhaling. 

"Will?" 

He walks over to where Mike is sitting, plopping himself right next to him on the log. Will extends his fingers, offering Mike a huff from the cigarette, which he takes rather quickly. 

"You ever think about changing things?" 

After a second, Will responds, he lets out a dry laugh, "All the time." 

Mike passes the cigarette back to Will. "When did you start?" 

"Like 3 years ago, after that summer." He smiles, pushing Mike's shoulder slightly."What, you don't smoke?" 

"It depends… How many do you go through a day?" 

"What? Packs?" 

Mike nods. 

"One, I think, depends on the day, right?" 

"You're gonna kill yourself." 

" _Maybe."_

Will takes another huff, looking out into the trees, watching them creek in the gentle breeze. It's oddly relaxing. "You come here a lot?" 

"I come here sometimes to think, I don't know." He touches the back of his neck. 

_Why is he nervous?_ Will knows he's doing it without even looking at him.

"Stop it." 

"What?" 

"I know when you get them." He motions with his cigarette. "You don't have to be nervous around me." 

"You know when I get them?" 

"I've never said anything but yeah of course I know. Just like you know the bruises I used to have didn't come from "slamming" into the wall." 

"Yeah. I'm sorry about _him_ by the way. He was an asshole." 

Will laughs, dryly. He isn't actually laughing. He doesn't find it funny in the slightest. "Yeah, of the like highest order. I'm kinda glad he left, even if it made our family even weirder." 

"How?" 

"I don't know... it just did. People seemed to think Lonnie was great, but he was just a drunk that beat his kids. My mom, I can't blame her but I always wonder what she saw in him. When they first met. I can't imagine him being anything other than what he was." 

"Same with my parents, they hate each other. I don't get why they won't just get a divorce or something. My dad, he thinks going to church is gonna solve things. I don't know, like praying, but I can't change who I am, you know?" 

_He can't be talking about-_

"I get it." 

A few seconds passed, a blanket of silence covering them, and passing the cig between them. 

"Do you ever get sick? I mean from rebelling?" 

Will already knew what Mike was talking about, rebelling from his soulmate. Rebelling from the very person sitting right next to him. 

"Yeah, all the time… You?" 

"I get sick like every week, I try and hide it though." 

_Why does he hide it?_

"Who was your first?" 

_Why did Mike just ask that-_

"Oh, uh, his name was Emmett, he was cute, not really my type though." 

"What was wrong with him?" 

"Nothing, he just had blonde hair and blue eyes." 

"So what's your type?" 

_Why was he asking so many goddamn questions-_

Their eyes are locked and Will just says it without thinking, "Dark hair and eyes, _black hair,_ freckles, and tall. Like kinda freakishly tall." 

Mike breaks eye contact first. "Pretty specific type there, Byers." 

_Fuck._ Will's too relaxed for this shit right now. He takes another huff, stubbing out the rest on the part of the log beside him. 

"Kind of small.." Mike pauses, thinking. "Not really, just small compared to me, birthmarks everywhere, light brown hair, hazel greenish eyes." 

Holy fuck, Mike just described him. Will's gonna ignore that right now out of sheer embarrassment. 

He grins, mocking how Mike sounded just seconds earlier. "Pretty specific type there, Wheeler, but I'm pretty sure half the girls you've dated aren't," Will puts up air quotes. "Your type." 

He digs into the pocket of his leather jacket, for the pack of marlboros. Will feels the jingling of his keys echo across the silent woods. He opens the pack, taking one out before Mike stops him by putting his hand on his. 

"I'm serious you're gonna kill yourself." 

Will pulls away first, _why does he care?_ "So?" 

" _You're gonna kill yourself."_ Mike enunciates. 

He rolls his eyes, reluctantly putting the pack of marlboros back into his pocket. 

And there's a minute of somewhat comfortable silence. 

Mike speaks first. "You think you could forgive your soulmate if they made a mistake?" 

"I probably would in a second… But the whole thing's kinda bullshit anyway. ' _Soulmates?'_ I don't know, it's weird." 

"I don't know, I think it's romantic. It makes me feel better sometimes knowing there's someone out there that really gets me, like _gets_ me." 

_Hah!_ Will thinks this whole conversation is ironic. They are soulmates. 

"Hey, I have to get back now but, uh, we can finish this talk some other time?" Mike gets up, brushing his hair with his hand. He looks very frantic, to say the least. 

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. How about next week, one a.m? Sounds good?" Will jokes, holding back a grin, and Mike returns the expression. 

"Definitely, but I might be seeing you tomorrow, you know, for Lucas's birthday. You're coming right?" 

"I don't know. I might." 

Mike groans. "It's gonna be fun. Fine, come for me then, please." 

Will could never argue with Mike when he said please. He still can't. 

"Alright, I'll be there." 


	3. The Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a minute where all Will can take in is Mike. It's like the rest of the world has faded away. El, standing near him. The sound of his mom clambering around the kitchen. The honking of cars trying to get to the main streets. All he can hear is Mike laughing. It makes him truly happy. Even if that happiness lasts mere seconds. Will could record Mike's laughter and play it on a mix for the rest of his life and he'd never get tired of it. 
> 
> But that'd be weird right?...Yeah, totally. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings - mentioned suicide attempt. suicidal thoughts. panic attacks and homophobic language.

_Location:_ _Byers's place, Hawkins, Indiana_

_Time:_ _4:38_

_Date:_ _October 23rd, 1988_

Sometimes it's easy to find your soulmate. You'd just see the string right away when looking at them. That wasn't the case ninety percent of the time. You had to admit something to yourself and then and only _then_ you could possibly find them. All you have to do is follow the string. If you wanted true love you followed the string, wherever it took you, until you found them. If you're a 'seer' like Will is, you'd see everyone's string, not just yours. If you were like most people, you didn't see yours until you found your soulmate. 

It isn't uncommon for people to get sick from rebelling, it's more uncommon to find two people who aren't soulmates settling down together. Like Karen and Ted. Like Joyce and Lonnie. Will knew that Lonnie used to tell his mother he saw their strings connected, but she never did, she saw it falling to the floor not pulling onto him. Will saw what she saw too. 

After a while, you get used to rebelling, you get used to the sickness, it doesn't bother you anymore. Will didn't want that, he didn't want to become accustomed to the pain of not being with his soulmate. But he already felt it, when he was in the upside down he felt it, when Mike was with El he felt it, when Mike threw him away like a piece of rotten Halloween candy he felt it. He feels it every time Mike is with someone else. He feels it when he's with someone else. 

Some people never meet their soulmates. Sometimes one of the pair dies, leaving the other feeling empty and hollow without their other half. His mother had found her soulmate, Bob. Will saw their strings attached the second he met him, and Will knew they both knew. 

It happens weirdly like that sometimes, his mom knew Bob in high school and they didn't see their strings. They got together twenty years later, and then Bob died. Leaving Joyce feeling empty and hollow, her string was gone. It disappeared from her wrist the very second Bob was attacked by those demo dogs that extra chilly November evening. Will felt guilty. He had caused the death of his mother's soulmate. Her _one._ He surely didn't deserve his.

Will turns back to the mirror in front of him, taking in his look. He put together a very simple outfit, a white Ziggy Stardust shirt underneath his leather jacket, tucked into his black jeans. A belt he had ' _borrowed'_ from Robin, which he had no intention of giving back, gracing the loops. He wears his signature silver rings and for this _special_ occasion, the necklace that El had bought him a few years back for his birthday. A forest green tear shaped amulet hanging from a black string. She told him she thought it brought out the green in his eyes. He did his hair as he usually did, maybe even applying an extra amount of gel, to keep it in place. It _totally_ isn't because he wanted to impress Mike. 

Will doesn't, he really doesn't. Mike can go fuck himself. He takes a further moment to wonder why he cares about what he looks like to Mike. Surely it doesn't matter at this point, does it? Not after everything that had happened. Mike didn’t look at him and see Will. He sees ghosts, the way Will does when he looks at Mike. Mike sees the sick kid Hopper and Joyce brought back from the Upside Down, or the kid that was strapped to a chair in the shed, or the one being constantly bullied by grade A assholes. Mike sees pain and regret. Not Will. 

What was that conversation even about yesterday night? Why was he acting so casual about Will being next to him? Will thought Mike hated him, why did tell him to come to Lucas's birthday for him? _For him._ Why did he phrase it like that? 

He can hear Cyndi Lauper's 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' blasting from El's room, he sings along to the lyrics quietly. Will grabs his doc's from the corner of the room, plopping himself down on his bed and pulling them over his black socks. Will remembered when Jonathan had come home for fifteenth birthday, gifting him a pair of brand new Doc Martens. 

They were expensive, Will knows that, and Jonathan somehow still got them for him. They had endured much over these past two years, but they still aren't worn out. Will makes sure to take care of them. He misses Jonathan. More than he lets on. He has El now, and Steve sort of filling that brotherly position but it isn't the same. When is he coming back again? Around Christmas? New Years? The last time Will saw him was for their mother's birthday and that was in August. 

_God, has it really been that long?_

He shifts his focus to what had happened last night. He still doesn't understand it. Will doesn't understand Mike. He's just _not_ understandable.

Next to him is Lucas's gift, wrapped neatly in some leftover wrapping paper Will had found from last Christmas. He really didn't know what to get him, so he went homemade. He just drew a picture of Lucas, _current_ Lucas, adding in his camo bandana _(from old times)_ and in big letters he wrote 'BADASS'. Will can't deny that fact. It didn't take him very long, he was done with it in about two and a half hours, one hour dedicated to outlining, one to drawing Lucas's actual features, _perfectly,_ and thirty minutes to coloring it in. 

The song stops abruptly, leaving a weird silence in the house for a minute before he hears footsteps coming closer to his room. He looks up to see El standing in his doorway, leaning on the door frame. She has her hair slicked back in a ponytail, a green hair tie pulling it back. One Will knows she had gotten from Max. Light shimmery purple eye makeup on, it reminded him of her look at the snowball. She's wearing a light beige sweater over her short white and blue flowered dress. Will thinks his sister looks beautiful. "Lucas said to be there by 5, are you ready?" 

He grabs Lucas's wrapped gift from his bed. "Yeah, yeah. Lets go." 

She turns around, walking down the hallway, Will following her. They turn to their mother, by the phone, who is speaking into it. "I'll give the phone to Will right now." 

He looks over to El who gives him a little noncommittal shrug. Joyce mouths ' _Mike'_ to him, handing him the phone, and remembering something she had to do, walking to the kitchen. _Why is he calling him?_ They're literally about to see each other. He scoops it up, putting the receiver to his ear, "Hello?" 

"Hey, Will." In the background, he hears someone scream something to Mike. A voice Will recognizes as Lucas's. Even if the timbre of his voice is now much more deep. 

"Hi, Mike." 

"Wait a second." He tells Will. Mike must have clasped the receiver in his hands, trying to cover up what he's saying but Will can still hear it all _very_ clearly. "I'm telling him right now!" Mike yells, and Will thinks he sounds just like a whiny fourteen year old again. 

He smiles into the phone, waiting for Mike to speak again. He can practically visualize Mike's face right now, he's probably scrunching up his eyebrows, making his annoyed face, throwing his hands up in exasperation, leaning on the wall in the basement for support. "Hey, sorry, Lucas is being really annoying." Will can hear Mike's groan over the phone.

"You probably shouldn't be calling the birthday boy annoying, Wheeler." Will jokes. 

Mike laughs over the phone. "Aha, Byers, _very_ funny. I can't help the fact the guy is now eighteen, six foot two and still acts like a thirteen year old." 

Mike acts like a _baby_. It slips out of Will's mouth accidentally. "You act like a child." He stifles his laughter. 

Mike giggles, "You wound me, Byers." 

There's a minute where all Will can take in is Mike. It's like the rest of the world has faded away. El, standing near him. The sound of his mom clambering around the kitchen. The honking of cars trying to get to the main streets. All he can hear is Mike laughing. It makes him truly _happy_. Even if that happiness lasts mere seconds. Will could record Mike's laughter and play it on a mix for the rest of his life and he'd never get tired of it. 

_But that'd be weird right?...Yeah, totally._

"So…" Mike says, bringing Will back from his internal monologue, he drags out the ' _so'_ awkwardly, "Change of plans, we're having his thing at my house now." 

_Things are back to how they really are._

"Ok, we'll be there soon." 

He can hear the static coming from the phone as they both have yet to say bye. "Bye." And Will hears the line click, putting the phone back on the wall, he turns to El. "It's at Mike's now." 

El nods her head slightly, taking in the information. They both walk into the kitchen, hovering around the counter, waiting for their mother to turn around from her current position facing the cabinets. She finally does. "You're heading out now right?" Joyce asks, looking between the two of them warily. Will knows what she's thinking right now. Just by that look. She's already picking up on the whole _'Mike'_ situation. 

El looks from him to their mom, "Yeah." She stuffs her hands in her blouse pockets. 

Joyce smiles, putting her hands on her hips, "Why don't you tell Mike to come over after? I'm making my _famous_ pasta puttanesca for dinner." 

Will contemplates arguing the matter but decides against it, he'll just tell his mom he asked Mike to dinner and he said no. _Simple. Easy. No hassle. No worries._ Though something is probably bound to happen anyway. "Ok mom. Dinner sounds good." He smiles back at her. 

_______________________  
  
Will is a survivor. People have constantly called him that, his mom, Hopper, El, Max. He's pretty sure he'd even heard it from Jennifer Hayes at some point. Sometimes he doesn't feel like he's surviving, only barely living. Every passing day is like a new stab of pain, an open wound that will never heal. 

Either he locks himself away from the world and just disappears, letting this stuff destroy him, or today, he's gonna try to stay positive. Paint him yellow and call him fucking sunshine. He's just gonna give less of a shit and try to not be bothered. No matter who says what or what happens. 

The plan _(almost)_ goes to shit when Karen Wheeler opens the front door. She smiles at them but he could see the slight grimace she made at him the second before. 

"Jane!" Karen says, flinging herself at El for a hug, before she could even stop her. El told him she felt sad every time she heard her real name. Her _mom_ had given her that name. It felt wrong hearing other people say it. And yet everyone ( _other than close friends and family_ ) calls her that. El had actually asked Karen to stop calling her that a few years back- with little success. He imagines El's irritated face right now. 

When they pull apart Mrs.Wheeler begins to speak again, disregarding Will entirely. "Michael has been talking about you all week. I know he misses you." 

_….Okay?_

Will fights the urge to roll his eyes. That would be _"disrespectful."_

"Why did you two breakup again? You were so nice together. Made my Michael-" 

Before she can finish her sentence, Will can see Mike coming from behind her, "Mom!" 

He has on the same punk look as Will, the only difference, he's wearing heavy black eyeliner. 

_EYELINER. Even Will isn't that bold-_

In a second he's standing next to her by the door frame, looking right at Will. At _him._ Will can't stop the heat he feels rising in his cheeks, tinting them a light shade of pink. 

Mike turns to his mom. "That's not even true. I wasn't talking about her." Then he looks at El with an apologetic expression. _'Sorry',_ he mouths. 

"What did I tell you about that?" Karen puts her hands on her hips, her face twisting into disgust and annoyance. 

Will really wants to leave right now. He even considers it for a moment before El squeezes his hand. She smiles at him sadly, but in her expression all Will can see is assurance. The phrase, " _stay positive"_ rings in his head like a song. One he _really_ isn't fond of. 

"About what?" Mike asks, not understanding why his mother was acting this way. Especially in front of Will and El. 

"The eye makeup? It makes you look like a-" 

"Mom!" Mike cuts her off, fearing what she is going to say. "We're just gonna go to the basement. We don't need anything." He changes the topic, motioning for them to come inside. 

Will knows what she was gonna say. _**Stay positive**_. He's trying his best to not blow off his lid right there and then. 

He steps inside, into the foyer, following Mike to the basement, he finally registers the fact that he hasn't been here in over two years. The place where he and Mike would have constant sleepovers, hangouts, campaigns. He hasn't been inside the Wheeler home for over _two_ years. Mike hasn't been to _his_ house in over two years. 

"I'm sorry about her." 

_Is he really apologizing right now?_

"It's fine," Will mutters under his breath. 

_It isn't._

As they're almost by the basement, Will looks up to the stairs. The carpet stairs that lead up to their bedrooms. 

Is Nancy here? He wants to talk to her. Even if it's just for a few minutes. She always listened to him.

"Is Nancy home?" He asks, and Mike stops at the entrance of the basement. El, closer to Will than she is to Mike. He can hear Dustin and Lucas talking about something downstairs. He wonders if Max is still coming. _Is she even here?_

"Yeah, she's up in her room. You wanna talk to her?" Mike quirks his eyebrow. 

Will nods, so slightly, he's not even sure if Mike sees it. But he does. "You can go up. Do you remember where it is?" 

"Yeah." 

"Kay." Mike responds, walking down a few steps, El, taking Lucas's gift from Will's hand, following him, giving Will one last _'aahh! I'm entering the belly of the beast.'_ look. 

_How did things ever get so complicated?_

Will turns, walking up the stairs, each step, a memory.

_1976_

_"Hey! No fair you can't just run ahead like that!" Will shouted out. Mike pushing past him, running up the steps, zooming into his bedroom. "It's fair!" Will heard him say as he shut the door with a bang. He smiled, trudging up the rest of the steps to get to Mike's room. Will opens the door, slowly, as to not alert Mike. He bursts into the room, attacking Mike on his bed, tickling him. Mike's laughter fills the air, Will thinks he's never heard anything sweeter._

_1977_

_Mike sniffled as Will set the bandaid on his cheek. He was still furious about what had happened. Did those bullies have to be so rough? It reminded him of his dad when he got drunk. Will hovered over Mike who was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, he titled his head, placing a kiss on the bandaid. Mike's sad expression turns into a smile, brushing over the place where Will just kissed._

_"What was that for?" Mike asked, sweetly._

_Will responds right away, "My mommy does it for me when I get hurt, it makes it feel better," He smiles back at Mike._

_Mike's smile fades away in a second, "What does a 'fairy' mean? Like an actual fairy?"_

_Will doesn't really know, he just knows that his dad uses that word. It's not good, whatever it is. "It means something bad."_

_"Well, I'd rather be a fairy than a poopy head."_

_Will giggles, "Mike!"_

_"That's what they are."_

_1979_

_Will leaned on Mike's door frame, studying the boy's face as he examined Will's drawing. It was his rainbow ship. The one he made especially for Mike. The one his mom was so proud of him for. "I love it." Mike held it to his chest, opening his arms to pull Will into a hug._

_"You do?" Will says over his shoulder._

_"Of course. I'm gonna put it up on my wall and everything."_

_Will smiles, brightly._

_1983_

_"It was seven." Will says, already positioned on his bike._

_Mike whips his head around, staring at Will like he's grown a third head, "Huh?"_

_"The roll…the demogorgon, it got me."_

_1984_

_"If we go crazy we'll go crazy together right?"_

_Will smiles back at Mike, a glassy tear forming in his eye, "Yeah.. Crazy together."_

_1985_

_"It's not my fault you don't like girls!" Mike yelled, effectively crushing Will's heart. If only he knew. He was speechless, all he could do was climb onto his bike, riding off into the rain. It is Mike's fault. Will wished he yelled that at him._

_1986_

_Mike clambers around the room, searching for the drawing. The rainbow ship. He doesn't know that Will took it. He had made this entire scavenger hunt for it, he wanted to do something special for Mike's birthday. His 15th birthday. It was in four days. "Have you seen the ship? Wait -" He looks at Will, suspicious. "Did you take it?"_

_"No." Will grins, "I wouldn't know anything about that."_

_Mike stops short, walking towards Will with a slow stride. He's not smiling, rather - his eyes look full of desire. He wraps his arms around Will's waist, his eyes flicking down to his lips._

_And holy shit, this is happening._

_Before either of them can speak, Mike presses his lips against Will's, connecting them. Will cards his hands through his unruly curly black hair, his body pressed between Mike and the wall._

_Mike backs up from him, eyes widening, he brushes his hair back in place, awkwardly. His lips are pink and puckered from kissing, but his entire face was blank, Will couldn't read it. He looks empty. Will took the giddy look of his face, frowning._

_Is something wrong?_

_Mike didn't look at him again, he just picked at his sweater, "I think you should leave." He said, robotically, in a tone that doesn't sound anything like him._

_"...Okay."_

_He was confused. Mike kissed him. Maybe it would have been different if Will kissed him first, but no, Mike kissed him. Will stumbled out of Mike's room, with one last 'are you okay?' glance at him. Mike didn't respond, he just stared blankly._

_Mike didn't see their strings. He couldn't have. That couldn't be his reaction, could it? It didn't seem like he saw them. Why was the universe so fixated on hurting Will?_

_It wasn't until the next day, in school, when Will pulled Mike aside did he talk to him._

_"Hey, are," Will started, his voice soft. “Are we okay? I thought maybe you were mad at me, or something...? And you kinda won’t even look at me today so maybe you are." Will swallows thickly. "Are you mad at me?”_

_"Leave me alone."_

_Will didn't understand. "What?"_

_"I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to hang out anymore."_

_"Wh-why?”_

_“Because I don’t want to be friends with you.”_

_He was going to be sick._

_"What?"_

_"I don’t wanna be friends with a faggot!" Mike's voice echoed off the school halls, stinging him. "Stay the fuck away from me. I don’t wanna catch AIDS."_

_There was a harsh sob that was stifled, and at first Will wasn’t sure which one of them it had come from. It must have been him. He turned around, shocked to his very core. Mike Wheeler, his best friend, his one, just -_

_This was real. This was reality. Painstaking, excruciating reality._

_He ran down the hall, into the bathroom, shutting close a stall. Will slipped down onto the floor, his chest shuddering as he cried into his palms._

Will shakes his head to stop all the thoughts racing inside. He knocks on Nancy's door, awaiting a response. "Go away Dustin, I already talked to you!" She shouts. 

"It's not Dustin. It's Will." 

"Come in!" 

He opens the door, seeing Nancy standing over by her dresser, picking out a couple of different shirts. She's wearing _just_ a bra, with black jeans. Will doesn't mind too much, Nancy is practically his sister. And she treats him like her younger brother, always has. She holds out both t-shirts interchanging them on her chest, "Which one is better?" She asks, looking at Will. 

The first one is a collared light baby blue shirt, one that reminds him much of how she used to dress a few years ago. The other is bright pink, with black polka dots, it suits her much better. It goes with her skin tone. "The pink one." 

"Really? I feel like the blue one is more work appropriate." 

"You have a job interview? When did you even come back?" 

_Why didn't she come by?_

Nancy and Jonathan both went their different ways to college, Jonathan to New York and Nancy to Chicago, vowing to keep a long distance relationship, and a year later it crumbled. Jonathan had found his soulmate. The best they were able to do was stay close friends, though Will can feel the deeply concealed resentment Nancy harbors, though she would never openly admit it. 

"I just came for the weekend. It's not a job interview, I'm writing a paper about the decrease in small businesses and how capitalist America is taking over. Doing some interviews on local businesses and.. it's this extra credit project," She trifles through her drawer. "And my professor…" Nancy sighs, "Is like the biggest asshole ever so _'Nancy Drew'_ has to prove him wrong." She finally looks at him. "I'm sorry." 

"For what?" 

She puts the pink shirt over her head, fixing it on her, and yup, Will was right, it does compliment her skin tone. "My brother." Nancy rolls her eyes. 

Will doesn't even wanna get started on him. "It's fine." He shrugs, "At least I'm here now right?" 

She steps forward, wrapping her arms around him in a hug, "I missed you, you know. Chicago is boring." 

"I missed you too." Then he adds on. "Hawkins is boring." 

"It sure is." They break apart, Nancy now looking at him with a smile on her face, "Have you figured out where you wanna go yet?" 

She's talking about college. Will honestly has no idea, he just knows he wants to get into a school that has a good arts program. Maybe Columbia? It would work because Jonathan's in New York. He'd be closer to him, but then he'd be farther from Nancy, Steve, Robin, Max ( _who has decided on California State_ ), Dustin, and basically everyone he cares about. Besides, his mom would have a massive freakout being away from her _"baby"_ for too long. 

"You don't have to know right now," It's like she's reading his mind. "You have time." Nancy assures him. 

"I feel like time is running out sometimes." He dry laughs, but what he's saying is the truth. He actually feels like that. 

"Maybe it is," She pokes at his chest, playfully. "Because you need to get downstairs. They're waiting for you." 

"Yeah." He says, solemnly, not wanting this conversation to end. 

"We can talk tomorrow. I'll come by, we can go to that diner you like for breakfast, El can come with us too if she wants. How does that sound?" 

It sounds amazing _._ Will nods frantically. "Alright. Get down there!" Nancy says, and he turns exiting her doorframe. Time to face the wrath of his friends. Well, friends _and_ old friends. 

_Stay positive._

He's at the top of the basement stairs, breathing in deeply, he can already see everyone sitting around the table. Max is there, she must have come in the last few minutes, laughing about something. Lucas and Dustin are on each side of her, smiling. El turns her head, eyeing him, Mike following her train of gaze. And soon everyone is looking at him, silent. He smiles softly, and a bit awkwardly as he comes down the last of the steps. 

"Hey guys," Will turns to Lucas, "Happy birthday." 

"Thanks man." Lucas replies, "Who are you and what have you done to Will?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"The leather jacket." 

He snorts."I stole it from my mom." 

El positions her arm over the chair, smiling at Will, "From one badass to another." 

"Bitchin _'_ ," Will responds. 

"Ok you _disgustingly_ cute siblings, we have a game to play." Max breaks their moment, intertwining her fingers. 

"Cool," Will sits down in the only seat available, the one in between Mike and El. _Great_. He gets to sit down next to Mike. It's almost like they did this on purpose. "What are we playing?" 

"What are we playing-" Dustin starts, confused as to why Will's asking, "D&D. Did you not see the board?" 

For the first time, Will looks at the table, they set up the board and everything. "I-" 

El stops him, "You're playing." She orders. 

"You guys can play without me." 

"We can't. We need our cleric." Max says. 

"Who are we gonna seek absolution from, guidance? We sure as hell can't get it from a Ranger." Dustin looks at Lucas, who sticks his tongue out at him.

They're all such babies, they can play without him. Can't they? 

"You planned a campaign." Will says to Mike, it's not a question, it's a statement. A realization on his part. He thought ' _cool guys'_ didn't play such ' _nerdy_ ' games. 

Mike nods, "It's my gift, _but_ it doesn't work if you don't play." 

"I'm sure you can figure it out." Will snaps back, crossing his arms. 

Everyone groans, a mumble of ' _come on'_ and ' _please's_ go around. "Come on dude. It's my birthday, don't be _that_ guy." Lucas leans back in his chair. 

"Who knows the next time we'll all be together again? And you _never_ wanna play anymore." Max adds. 

"That's not true!" Will says, defensively. 

"Really?" Dustin deadpans, his face falling flat, "When's the last time we played? I honestly can't remember."

  
  
In about five minutes Will agrees ( _reluctantly_ ). _Guess the party still needs him._ They've now been playing for about two hours. Will wonders just how long this campaign is. 

"Out of the corner of your eye you see two panthers dart towards you from behind the throne. They are obscured and warped by the mage's magic," Mike looks at El, and then back at everyone,"You raise your shield in anticipation of their inevitable pounce, but it never comes. You feel the spiked tentacles impale your unprotected back as the displacer beast bears down on you," He focuses his gaze on Max, "Zoomer, your action?" 

She puts her head back, thinking, "Move action to cut off the beast before he moves to the door in the chamber and on the way I use a Free Action to knock the flask of oil off the table, potentially causing him to slip. By positioning myself between the undead army and the door, I ensure that if he were to pass me I would get an opportunity to attack by using his reaction. Which is…," She takes the dice, passing it back to Mike. "Displacement." 

He rolls the dice, wishing for a 10, the only roll that can effectively take out the displacer beast. "Shit." Mike puts it on the table, everyone now sees he rolled an 8.

Everyone groans, Dustin sighing loudly. "We were so close." Lucas says, already giving up. 

"The Shield Master feat," Will provides, "Which together with proficiency in Athletics, will allow me to knock down the displacer, prone with my bonus action – giving us the advantage on our attack rolls against him."

Mike nods, already knowing the next step. "By casting thunderous smite, then making my first attack doing extra 2d6 thunder damage, if our target failed their saving throw and was knocked prone, then I would make my second attack with advantage and use my Greater Weapon Master feat to take the -5 to hit penalty and do +10 damage. If the displacer is still standing after this I could use divine smite or even my action surge to finish them off." 

  
  


Half an hour later they're all sprawled out on the floor, talking about god knows what. Will isn't even paying much attention. He's just staring at Mike. "Can I smoke?" Will asks, looking at Mike. 

"Yeah." Mike replies, shrugging. "My parents aren't home anyway."

"Thanks." 

Will takes out a cigarette, and his lighter, lighting it in one swift motion. He takes a huff from it, exhaling off to the side. Lucas is eyeing him, in disbelief. "You smoke?" 

"Yeah," Will smiles, joking around, "Don't you wanna be cool like me?" 

El's face falls flat faster than a loaf of bread falling in an oven. "Don't glorify nicotine addictions." 

"Oh god." He mutters under his breath, then looks at her, "Nicotine addictions run in the family. Only Jonathan, doesn't _just_ smoke nicotine."

"He's a stoner?" Mike asks. 

"You're telling me you've honestly never seen him and Nancy?" 

_Will caught them once, smoking a joint on the porch. The price of his silence was sharing._

"I don't really pay attention to her." 

"You should, Maybe she'll take you with us when we go for shooting practice." 

"You guys do that? What do you even shoot?" 

"Oh you know, the usual. Humans." He deadpans. And then after a few seconds and multiple huffs from his cigarette, Will adds on, "Cans." 

"Nancy's the best." El says, smiling.

Everyone agrees, except for Mike, of course. Dustin clarifying what he meant, "Steve's the best." 

Max grins. "We get it you're like in love with him or whatever." 

They all burst into fits of laughter. 

________________________  
  


Max suggests it. Truth or Dare. Something they all know she gets _way_ too much enjoyment out of. "Oh come on. You guys are so boring." The pitter patter of the rain coming from outside, hitting the basement window, she turns, smirking, and then back at Mike. "Truth or dare?" 

"Fine," He thinks for a second. "Dare." 

Her grin turns even larger, she's plotting something. "I dare you to climb the tree in your backyard." 

"It's raining." 

_Thanks for that, Captain obvious,_ Will thinks _._

"Wear a raincoat." She says back. "We can watch from the window." 

In the next several minutes, multiple things happen, they all watch Mike go out into the dark, almost slip off the tree in the pouring rain, and when he comes back he's wearing a less than happy expression, his eyeliner is smudged, his bottom lip jutting out into the swirl of icy raindrops. His hair, soaked and the curls coiling all over his dark green raincoat. Dustin is dared to put his foot in the toilet, Lucas had to reveal the weirdest thing he's ever done, which was surprisingly underwhelming, Will had to talk in an british accent and El had to put as many snacks as she could in her mouth at one time. 

They're all hovering over the kitchen counter, the tossed candy wrappers, El consumed, covering the entirety of it. _It oddly feels like old times._

"Max," Dustin says, from across the counter, "Your turn. Truth or dare?" 

"Truth." She responds in an instant. 

"Tell us your _deepest darkest_ secret." 

El giggles."Fun." 

Max sighs, cupping her cheek with her arm now extended on the counter, "I'm bisexual." 

It's the way she says it so casually that catches Will's attention. "Really?" 

"What does that mean? Are you like dying or something?" Lucas furrows his brow. 

Mike answers for her, talking very nonchalantly, "It means she likes both." 

"Both of what?" 

"Guys and… girls." 

"I'm pretty sure that's not a real thing." 

"It is, cause I'm that thing." Max says back, then she turns to Mike. 

Will knows when she's faking a smile, she had mastered it, right down to look in her eyes. He sees it in her eyes, and holds on to her as the facade crumbles into a real grimace. "Do you have a problem with that, Mike?" 

_Holy shit, El must have told her._

He briefly wondered if she was lying about being a bisexual but knows Max isn't like that. She wouldn't lie. _Friends don't lie._

"I don't care." Mike shrugs. 

**~~_Stay positive._ ~~ **

Will laughs bitterly. "That's funny coming from you. You don't care? You don't care?" Will is fuming. "That is such bullshit! You're bullshit! You sure 'cared'," He puts up air quotes, mocking him. "A hell of a lot two years ago." 

"People change!" 

Really? That's his response? He hasn't changed one bit, if anything he's gotten worse. "You told me you couldn't hang out with a faggot," Mike flinches at the slur, "Isn't that what you said? Tell me, Mike, it's pretty simple, did you say it or did you not?"

Mike mumbles, "I said it." 

" _What?"_

"I said it but I tried to apologize, you ran away!" 

"It's been two years, Mike. You tried to apologize? You did a pretty shitty job. Do you know what it's like to lose your best friend over this shit? The person you care about, probably the _most_ leave you? It's clear I didn't mean shit to you. Yeah, you might be the same person but you are _nothing_ like how you used to be. You turned into this huge egotistical dick! That's the thing about you, you don't care about anyone except yourself anymore. And it's not just me who sees it now. I didn't tell anyone about what you said to me. Two years I shut up about it. But, you're an asshole. And I don't get it!" 

The lights above them flicker, the surge of electricity dimming quickly into an audible hum. Any and all commotion has come to an immediate halt. Five pairs of eyes, trained solely on him, all of them surprised by his behavior. Will didn't yell. He was quiet. Nice. Capable of doing no wrong. Max is frozen but still looking at Will with concern. El scowls at Mike, crossing her arms, remaining close to Will's side, Dustin and Lucas both huddled next to Max, their faces twisting in an utterly surprised expression. 

_Will needs to get it under control._

Will's cheeks flush red, and his expression read of pure distress. He's frantic and entering borderline hysterics as he says, his voice raised. "I thought I could just come here and we could have a normal time, _for once_ , but this proved I can't be in same _fucking_ room with you and not explode! And I swear to god, the next time you try to talk to me, I will lose my shit! I honestly never wanna see you again. Don't fucking talk to me." 

This isn’t right. This isn’t how friends treat each other. They fought, sometimes, sure, but this is utter chaos. Will looks, in that moment, like he hates Mike. With all his being. 

_Something inside of him knows he could never truly hate Mike Wheeler._ _Even in betrayal the mechanism to turn it into hatred fails, instead Will's mind seeks to understand his behaviour from a compassionate point of view._

He needs to get out of here right now. He can already feel the tears forming in his eyes. He doesn't wanna give Mike the satisfaction. He _can't_ see Will cry. 

He does his best to collect himself, looking at Lucas, and talking in a voice that he knows sounds like he's on the verge of tears, "Sorry. Happy 18th, really." 

He pushes past Mike, running out the door. Five voices cry out, "Will!" 

But he ignores them. The static in his head is deafening.

________________________

The panic starts with a tightening of his chest, as if the muscles are trying not to let another breath in, but instead to die. Then the breath comes, shallow, lungs unable to move much against the suddenly heavy ribs. Then Will's mind becomes static, thoughts making no sense, replays of horrors once forgotten. He sinks to the wet ground, hugging his knees to his shaking chest, digging his nails into the flesh of his arms, unable to fight off tears. 

"Fuck!" Will shouts out onto the empty road. His remaining thread of strength frays before breaking completely, sending him plummeting over the edge and into the darkness. Hysterical sobs shake his thin frame, threatening to tear him apart from the inside. 

Late october rain on Will's skin, enough to chill what was once warm inside. At any other time he would have called a friend, asked for the warmth he needed to ward it off, just a little is enough. No longer. Now he just lets it come, drop by drop, feeling like it is an ocean falling upon him instead of rain - the grief of years he tried so hard to carefully suspend has all condensed right above his head into water droplets. They say it can't rain forever, that there will come a time when it must cease, that the last drop will have fallen. The thing is, Will just doesn't care. He plans to just stay here in the cold, comfortably numb. He can't escape it no matter how hard he tries, it follows him around like a black shadow. 

His mind plummets downward into less and less light, and darkness beyond measure. Is there a bottom to the mind's pain? Is there any branch of hope, or something to catch or hold onto? Is there some rescuing idea that can come into the thoughts? Why is he so fucking untouchable? Why can't it end? How much darkness can one take without any light? Will doesn't know. He doesn't have any answers. 

The weight of everything seems to press down on his shoulders. It's too much. All of it. And somehow, he keeps moving. All this time. But every step costs him. The darkness grows darker; the pain grows sharper; all of it seems to only grow in strength and he begins to wonder if things could ever get better. But Will never said a word. Sometimes he wonders if that smile- the horribly fake smile- is ever seen through. If someone ever notices that sad, broken look in his eyes that he sees in the mirror, everyday. 

It's ghostly white skin tainted by charcoal circles under sad eyes, and purple burn marks viciously parading on his chest. It's the inability to even get out of bed. It's giving up on himself. It's bursts of anger and late night tears. It's the feeling of disgust within himself that makes him want to tear off his own skin just so he can finally feel clean. It's uncertainty and confusion. It's losing tons of weight, long showers and greasy hair. It's constantly wishing you could be somewhere or someone else. It's losing the strength to even live. 

During the times of his panic attacks, all of the various thoughts racing through his head were racing so blindingly fast, it was impossible to even comprehend them, or slow them down. It's like watching a movie play out in extreme fast forward and looping it over and over. 

There are other times when his mind went completely blank, or, the various areas of his brain weren't cooperating. It would take him twenty minutes just to lift the bedcovers and move one leg out onto the floor. He'd walk into the kitchen to make breakfast and find himself just standing there, in the middle of the kitchen doing nothing.. just staring. 

There are wild mood swings. Will would be fine one second and the next curled up into a ball crying. Screaming. Unable to breathe. Max and Dustin had seen it. El had seen it. Both Jonathan and his mom had seen it. He'd just get up in the middle of a conversation and walk out because he hit a wall, no longer able to deal with all the sensory input he was getting.

_All he really wanted to do was sleep (and, well, kill himself)._

The more he denies the hurt, the stronger and more insistent it becomes. It's settled into this deep, wicked ache in the very back-bottom of his stomach. He can feel the emptiness flowing through his veins - it's like it's growing, so fast it wants to rip his body apart. He feels hollow and full of sadness all at once, and he can't remember ever being happy. The kind of sadness that makes him unable to think about the future. The kind of sadness that makes him feel like he's alone, even when he's surrounded by friends or family.

He's not sure what's rain and what's his tears anymore. It's all the same. Will's not sure when this will stop. Maybe it'll stop when the rain does. That's just wishful thinking. He knows he's gonna carry this his whole life. It's not just Mike. It's everything combined into one. The abuse. The bullying. The demogorgon. The upside down. The mindflayer. The possession. The pills. The heartbreak. The lights. The darkness growing in Will's heart. The lost innocence and time. 

_Will sank lower and lower until he forced himself beneath the water, hands splayed tensely on the sides of the tub, holding himself down, emptying out his lungs. Which one of them would find him? Dead. By his own doing. There was a second of absolute suspension before his body spasmodically inhaled water and he reflexively sat up. He climbed out of the tub, collapsing on the floor, shaking, throat raw and thoughts pounding as loud as his pulse._

He knows he can't stay here forever. He wishes he could. He wishes he could die here. On Mirkwood, where the events all first started. The light of the lamppost in front of him flickering as fast as his thoughts. Will looks up, arms still hugging his knees, eyes widening. 

_What the actual fuck is happening to him?_

He can't deal with this right now. Not another thing. 

Water washes over his skin so strongly that it feels as if he's in the flow of a river rather than a rain shower. And so the only thing to do is to get up and get away from it all. The cold icy rain pierces his pale and wet skin. Will runs across the slippery path, his posture weakened by the weight of his soaked clothes and shoes. The quality of darkness shifts in the sky but the rain keeps on pouring. 

So he runs to the only place, and person, he thought of who would ask no questions. The knock comes quietly at first and then there is silence for a second before he opens the door. Tight blue jeans tucked into a blood red shirt. Will flings himself at him, disregarding his soaked clothes, wrapping his arms around him in a hug, letting it all out. 

"Rob, you might wanna come over here." Steve says.


	4. Disconnected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so as the quietness grows deeper, Will steadies his rhythm. Sitting at the kitchen table, picking at the oily pasta Steve made for him. The table is wood and round, leaving him on one side, with Robin & Steve on the other, looking at him diligently. They're like concerned parents that ask you to come and "talk" with them about grades or homework or whatever. You just know by the look on their faces it's not good. 
> 
> "What happened?" Robin finally asks, cutting through the silence. 
> 
> Will sets down the fork with a clink on his plate. "I don't really wanna talk about it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recognize that it's very OOC for both Mike and Will to be super depressed (though they've gone through a lot) but, alas, this is fanfiction. I'm trying my best to stay true to their character aspects while adding in a bit of my own into the mix. I promise they are not seeking any sort of validation from each other. They're learning to heal (together).
> 
> warnings - self harm/mutilation. blood/gore. suicidal thoughts. anxiety and paranoia. panic attacks and homophobic language.

The front door slams shut, a pair of black docs running out of it. Everyone's silent for a minute, taking in all that just happened. 

"Great going, dickhead!" Max exclaims, crossing her arms, scowling at Mike. 

Everyone is staring at him, like he's this big asshole. Even Lucas. 

_Maybe I am, Mike thinks._

He knows he fucked up this time. He fucked up last time too. He's just one _huge_ screw up. 

"How the fuck could you say that to him?" Dustin asks, but Mike knows he's not searching for an answer. His face is the split image of _'I'm about to punch someone',_ and that person is Mike. Max urges him to stop, putting her hand in front of Dustin's chest. It doesn't stop him for long. He gets to Mike in a second. Lucas, Max and El are still frozen in the positions they were in when Will initially left. "You don't deserve him." 

_What the hell does that mean?_

"What?" 

Dustin repeats it, voice getting louder."You. Don't. Deserve. Him." 

"Fuck you, Dustin," He spits. And in a second, Dustin pushes him down, he sumbles, falling to the ground. Dustin hovering over him, fist cocked, ready to pounce.

"Enough!" El yells, right when the fist was going to hammer down on him. She looks like she wants to run for Will or beat the living daylights out of Mike, either would do. She looks at Dustin, jabbing a finger at him, "I understand why you're angry. I sure as hell am too, I would love nothing more than to beat the crap out of Mike but that's not gonna solve anything." 

She pushes Dustin aside, extending an arm for Mike to take. He grabs onto it, El helping him get off of the floor. But he knows that wasn't a peace agreement as she glares at him before turning back to the rest of the group. She places both of her hands on the counter, leaning on it for support. "We need to go after Will." 

Everyone nods. Everyone _except_ Mike. 

Mike follows her train of gaze to both Max and Dustin, "You know how he gets when he's bad." 

Lucas quirks his eyebrow, "Bad?" 

"He has these episodes… he can't snap out of-" 

Mike interrupts her, eyes widening in fear. "Episodes? Like upside down episodes?" 

Max smiles superficially. "Oh, look who wants to give a shit now!" 

He returns the expression, mocking her. 

"That week, when you guys had your fight," El looks at Mike, saddened, "Will couldn't do anything. He couldn't get out of bed. He was messed up about it." She points to her head. It oddly reminds him of how she didn't know how to speak much when they first met. 

_Did it really affect Will that much?_

"I'm sorry Lucas but this is more important." El says. 

Lucas nods his head, "I agree." Then he looks at Mike. "You drew first blood, apologize or you're kicked out of the party." 

Mike opens his mouth to talk but nothing comes out, it's like he can't speak any longer. He's prohibited to. 

"Party rules." Dustin finishes, adding a grimace to his face when he makes eye contact with Mike. 

_He gets it. He's a piece of shit._

In the next fifteen minutes, they all get suited up, ready to look for Will. Mike argues with El over her just wearing a dress and how she _has_ to wear pants because it's raining. _An argument that wasted a good amount of time that could have been spent on Will._ It ends in her slamming the upstairs bathroom door, coming out with a less than happy expression over wearing Mike's old sweatpants. Max gives El her jacket, and she takes Mike's oversized light blue bomber ( _very_ reluctantly). Scowling at him the _entire_ time. Dustin and Lucas wait by the door, talking about something in hushed tones as Mike gets his big chunky black boots on. 

_It's official, all his friends hate him._

He looks over to the clock on the wall, 9:17. And with one deep breath in he approaches them. Five sets of eyes all on him. 

Max is the first one to speak, "Why are you even coming? Will's not gonna wanna talk to you… or even look at you." 

He pushes past her, huffing. He says, under his breath, "Shut up." And opens the door, stepping out into the darkness of the front lawn. The rain was already hitting his raincoat hood. Taking a deep breath of cold, crisp, autumn air. 

Max looks at him, as everyone shuffles out, her blue eyes now as red as her fiery hair. "What was that, Wheeler?" 

"What was that, _Maxine_?" He mocks her, taking in the same tone.

Mike turns his back to her, _and everyone else_ , starting to walk in the direction of the street, alone. The rest of the party trailing behind, not wanting to talk to him. 

_He gets why they're mad at him._ ~~_He's mad at himself._ ~~

He can hear them talking, muffled between the sound of his boots scuffing up underneath the wet ground and the pouring rain. Max is saying something about wanting to hit him, while Lucas keeps talking about how he had no idea _that's_ what happened that caused the split.

El's quiet but something in him knows she's staring at him. Her eyes fixed on the back of his head. 

~~_He can feel it when she spies._ ~~

Dustin is probably fuming, fists clenched, trying his best to not beat Mike up at this very moment. He's showing restraint, which Mike recognizes as… something. 

El takes the lead, running down the street. She runs a full block before she stops at the corner. The rest of them, trying to catch up with her. Now they can all see what she's looking at. A car. Their car. Will didn't take it. Which means that he couldn't have gotten far in the last twenty minutes. Not by foot. 

They all share very concerned glances. And for the first time since this all started they don't look at him with pure hatred in their eyes. Just worry. 

El looks into the car window and then back at them, "He wouldn't go home. It's too far." 

"Okay, well, we can look for him better if we take the car. It'll be faster." Lucas suggests. 

"It's _his_ car. He has the keys." 

"Where would he go?" Dustin asks, shoving his wet hands into his jacket pockets. 

There's a moment of silence and thinking they share, out in the rain. "I don't know." Max says. "He could be anywhere." 

Mike has an idea forming in his brain. He ignores the rest of their comments and walks ahead. Will would go somewhere he finds comfort in, somewhere where he feels safe. That isn't anywhere here, but it’s close. Walking distance. Fifteen minutes at most. 

“Mike!” Five voices call out in unison. He turns around, annoyed, shoving the sleeves of his raincoat over his wrists.

“Where are you going?” Lucas shouts. Everyone is looking at him like he’s a crazy person, not understanding. 

Mike shouts back. “I know where Will is!” 

“Where?” They all shout. 

“Just follow me!” Then he mutters under his breath, “Jesus.” 

_How is he the_ **_only_ ** _one that knows where Will would go?_

They all run ahead, catching up to him. “So.. where is he?” Max asks, walking side by side with Mike. 

“Steve’s.” He responds, definitively. 

“How do you know that?” 

“One, he didn't take his car. Two, he didn’t go home because no one’s there. Three, he always used to go to Jonathan,” 

_Or him._

“For this stuff, and since he can't, who’s the closest person to him?” 

Dustin and El finish the thought, “Steve.” 

________________________ 

El knocks on the door of Steve’s apartment. 1C. He rents out of a house, having the main floor all to himself. Hopefully Will is here. Hopefully Mike’s right. 

Steve opens the door, looking at them speechless, “Who is it?” Mike hears someone scream. A voice he recognizes as Robin’s. 

He turns his head slightly to the hallway, shouting back, “The kids!” 

“Is Will here?” El asks. 

“They wanna know if Will’s here…” Steve pauses, “What do you want me to tell them?” 

_He’s talking to Will._ Mike feels a wave of relief wash over him. 

A few seconds of silence before Will responds. “Go AWAY!” 

“Let me talk to him.” El says, and Steve stiffens at the door. “Please, let me talk to my brother.” 

He leans on the door, “I would let you but you heard him.” 

Mike watches as El grows more irritated, eyes fixed, eyebrow raised, then redirects his focus back to Steve, “Is he okay?” 

He scoffs, crossing his arms, “Why would you care?” 

_Will told him._

“He told you?” Mike’s eyes widen.

“Why wouldn't he? He’s my friend and I _care_ about him. I’m not the one that called him a _disgusting_ slur.” 

“ _Really_? Because I remember Nancy saying something about what you said to Jonathan a few years ago.” 

Somehow they’ve grown much closer, _so_ close they're coming face to face. 

"Back the fuck away from me." 

Mike feels the tension in the air and hears the intensity in his tone. There's a great deal of emotion behind these words he is speaking. All he can do is try to make a new and hopefully better choice and see what unfolds. _This doesn't happen._ Though he understands how Steve came to feel this way. And things do go different, not all magical and fairytale-esque, there’s pain that Mike inflicted. _On Will._

In that frozen second between standoff and fighting Mike’s eyes flick from Steve to Will, walking towards them hurriedly in the hallway. Their faces are unreadable, no fear, no invitational smirk. He can’t help but notice the flickering of the lights coming from the hallway. 

_What is wrong with them? Is there some sort of neighborhood electrical problem?_

It subsides as Will shouts, “Stop it!” at them, and they break apart. Steve, _still_ grimacing at him. 

Will looks at him, standing right by the door frame next to Steve, wearing different clothes now. Loose black pants with a white and gray long sleeve shirt that hung off of him, going down slightly past his waist. “Just go home, Mike. Stop pretending like you actually care about me.” 

It's like being trapped alone in the darkest abyss with a sword pierced through his heart. This broken heart is silent, it can't be seen but the blood bleeds inside. Just hearing that out of Will makes him want to cry. So instead he backs up, jaw clenched to hold the tears about to boil over. He can feel his stomach drop and the blood drain from his face. The world seems to stop, the only sound being his breathing, the rain, and the hammering of his heart in his chest. 

He watches as Will turns to everyone else, “I’m fine guys, really. Thanks for coming to check on me but I’m good.” Then he speaks to El, “I’m gonna stay at Steve’s tonight. Please tell mom when she gets home.” 

“Sure,” She smiles sadly. 

“You're the best. Love you.” He says to her. 

“Love you too. Feel better.” 

“Thanks.” 

Everyone shouts a _‘feel better_ ’ as Steve closes the door, saying one last, _‘goodnight, I’ll see you little shit heads soon. Oh! And happy birthday, Lucas.’_

Mike feels like he’s barely functioning as everyone starts to walk down the road, taking one last look at him, Max speaks first, “And everytime I think you can’t possibly get worse…”

“Seriously, stay away from Will.” El says to him, “I don't know what happened to you. You're not the person that took me in all those years ago.” 

Both Max and El turn away, Max throwing her arm over her shoulder. He can hear their conversation as they walk, “Wanna come to my house tonight? I’m gonna be alone until mom gets home.” 

“Sleepover?” He assumes Max is smiling. 

All Dustin does is flip him off. Lucas pats his shoulder saying, “What you did was shitty.” 

_________________________  
  


 _'Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid._ ' Mike thinks as he walks down empty Mirkwood road. He rocks back and forth, mumbling at himself. He tugs at his wet curls, raincoat hood down, his heart rate spiked. The crisp rain still falling down, piercing his pale skin. Mike's eyeliner flushing down his face, leaving black streaks all over. 

He's scrambling to get home, checking back to see if he's being followed. He can't shake that feeling. Maybe it's just paranoia. Moonlight reflects in the puddles, leaves scrunch under foot. A shadow appears. _Silence._ Mike stops, circling round, hearing for the slightest movement. The sound of breaking twigs echo in his head. 

Then it hits him. This is fear in his mind, controlling him. Using him.

His mom thinks he's ' _crazy', 'loopy', insane'._ She's been giving Mike these pills to calm him down. It sounds amusing from the outside, sure, but not when you're in your own head, not able to do anything. Imagine the worst nightmare you’ve ever had. Take a moment to recall it. Then imagine you were unable to wake up from it because you're already awake. That's what he feels all the time. 

Why can't it end already? Death can't possibly be worse than what he's experiencing now. 

Mike knows he shouldn't be feeling this. He should be fine like the others are. Nothing even happened to him, he was just a witness. A witness to the treacherous horrors. With every step he takes he feels like he's reliving it, seeing Will's body at the quarry, watching El die at the hands of the demogorgon, the mindflayer, Will's possession, watching Bob die, watching Billy die, watching everything happen and doing nothing. He was supposed to be a leader. Instead he failed everyone, sitting around doing nothing when the people he cared about were in danger. When the people he cared about were suffering. He shut his friends out. He hated Max from the beginning just because he thought Will had a crush on her. He continued to date and hurt El knowing full well-

He tried his best to comfort El after Hopper died and it failed. Mike tried his best to comfort Max after Billy died and it failed. He even tried to comfort Joyce after Bob died and it failed. He doesn't even wanna get started on how he failed time and time again with Will. 

_I don't deserve to live,_ Mike thinks. 

His brain is like an extinguished fire. Once it burned bright, knew of happiness, he could see a future. Now Mike's mind is dark, subsisting on the burnt tinder of who he was. In these ashes there is nothing to even renew a spark. Like Will said, he's nothing like he used to be. 

It’s like the world has collapsed, leaving Mike torn apart. The flame has been burnt through everything he believed in. Like it demolished all that’s true. It’s been a long time that he’s been sitting around and dissolving, drowning in his own tears. It’s like a nightmare that never ends, chasing, screaming, till he’s dead. Like Mike’s beaten and bruised with scars that'll never heal. Like it’ll be raining forever with every tear he’s cried. Like joy is lost. Like the safety of his everything has been crushed to its demise. Like he doesn't know anything real. Like he’s drowning in a pool of lies.

Lies he created. Lies that hurt. 

He turns the key into the doorway, opening it to the house. And when he enters it feels the same as coming home after a long absence. Mike knows this isn't home. Home is a place where you're accepted. Loved. This isn't it. His only true ' _home_ ' ~~is~~ was with Will. 

"Hey dad." Mike says, absentmindedly, floating in the space between the doorway and the stairs. His dad laid back in his recliner, watching who knows what. Mike doesn't bother getting any closer, he's dripping wet anyways. 

His father doesn't even look him in eye. "Where were you? It's almost eleven o'clock." 

He looks at the clock on the wall, 10:38. 

"I was just out," Mike rubs the back of his neck, thinking of a lie to create. "I went for a run." 

Ted looks at him, skeptical. "In the rain?" 

"Yeah, I-" 

His dad stops him, "Your mother told me Will came over." 

Mike's heart rate accelerates, _nothing even happened. Well, other than him being cursed out and going on a wild goose chase to see if Will was alright._

"Everyone came over. It's Lucas's birthday," He reasons. 

"Remember our deal." Ted's face turns strict. 

The fear spikes in his heart, adrenaline floods his system, his heart pumps and beats like it’s trying to escape. His body wants to run to the safety of anywhere but here. But where will he go? Everyone he cares about hates him now. Mike remains where he is. He needs to face it, there is really only one thing he can do: pray his dad isn't gonna go through on his deal. 

His adrenaline surges so fast he almost vomits, all Mike can taste is saliva thickening in his throat. At some point he'll have to move, and he'll have to live with what he gets.  
  


_January 12th, 1986_

_His dad's eyes narrowed, “I will not allow you to become like him."_

_He was talking about Will._

_“Like what?” Mike spat back._

_“One of them homosexuals.” Mike opened his mouth to retort but his dad was already talking again, “I won’t allow you to be further influenced by his disease-ridden ways, you need to grow up into a man not a faggot.”_

_Mike tensed, this was not happening right now._

_“Yeah." He scoffs, "I'm gay dad. What are you gonna do about it?" Mike watched as his dad’s face contorted into disgust._

_The pure revulsion in his dad’s voice sent chills down his spine, he consciously took a step back from the sharp glare and clenched fists, "You will not fall into homosexual tendencies, Michael. If I see you with Will one more time or hear that you're hanging around him," Ted stops for a moment, "I won't hesitate to get you help."_

_All he could hear in his dad’s words were his rants recapitulating homophobic "scientific" pamphlets. The facilities to "help" them. His dad was grouping him with the people he hated, the people he ranted about every morning and truly believed deserved to die from AIDS. His own dad now saw him as worthy to die and that...that truth seared Mike’s heart until his chest burned with the pain of held back tears that he knew he couldn’t spill without making his father believe even more that he was one of them._

_Mike felt queasy and suddenly lightheaded. He couldn’t get his eyes to focus on his dad as everything went blurry, "I hate you."_

_"You'll see in time I'm just doing what's best for you." Ted pats his shoulder, lips firmly pressed together._

_Mike watched as his dad disappeared around the corner and down the stairs._

_How could he tell Will about this?_

_Will would think it was his fault and it wasn’t. Nothing was ever his fault. He could already feel the stinging pressure tears brought against the back of his eyes, flowing down his pale cheeks. He made one mistake. One kiss his dad just happened to see. And it cost him everything._

  
  


_Mike did his best to avoid him the next day. He couldn't tell him. He couldn't. Will's his best friend. Always and forever. At least he thought so._

_Will pulled him aside, noticing his off behavior, "Hey, are, are we okay? I thought maybe you were mad at me, or something...? And you kinda won’t even look at me today so maybe you are. Are you mad at me?”_

_This was the time. He_ **_can't_ ** _go to conversion therapy._

_Mike swallows hard, "Leave me alone."_

_Will furrows his brow, "What?"_

_"I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to hang out anymore."_

_"Wh-Why?” Will's voice breaks._

_Mike was going to be sick._

_“Because I don’t want to be friends with you.”_

_He felt like throwing up._

_"What?"_

_"I don’t wanna be friends with a faggot!" Mike's voice echoed off the school halls. "Stay the fuck away from me. I don’t wanna catch AIDS."_

_Please forgive me, Mike thinks._

_Mike watched as Will turned, running down the hall. He clenched his jaw, trying his best to hold back tears. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' running through his head._

_He just said that to his best friend. His soulmate. His one. He just -_

"Son?" And Mike's brought back to the conversation, "You should go to bed. It's late." 

He nods his head, "Night, dad." Mike says, hollowly. 

Mike walks up the stairs of their house, heading into the bathroom. He closes the door with a thud, taking in his reflection in the mirror. He looks like a ghost. The world turns into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was just gone. He pauses for a second, trying to hold back the strange feelings rumbling inside but couldn’t. A lone tear traces down his cheek, and just like that, the floodgates opened. So many tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his pale face. 

His breathing becomes heavy. To the point where he's gasping for air that simply isn't there. Mike's throat burns, forming a silent scream. There's too much raw pain inside of him to be contained. He hurt Will. He doesn't deserve him, Dustin is right. He cries like his spirit needs to break loose from his skin, desperate to release an elemental rage on the world. A rage on himself. 

Why did he submit so easily? He fucked up everything. Everything he had. 

His broken heart was still and for a moment, he only felt numbness. And then anger and sadness surged through him with so much power, he didn't know what to do. Mike’s mind goes completely blank. 

At first there was silence. A misty haze upon the horizons of his mind. That's where he kept everything, in his mind. Closed off to the rest of the world. Before Mike knew it there were hysterical babbles, his own, yet they seemed so distant. Tears streak his face. Time had fast forward. He couldn't remember the briefest of moments, all he sees is the sharp cuts deep on his forearm. Three cuts in total. He watches as drops parade down the sink in a shallow of red. Then he sees the razor sitting on the counter. 

_Did he do this to himself?_

All color drains from Mike's face, he's as white as a slice of bread. Clammy, a cold sweat perspiring from his forehead, his entire body is shaking like crazy. Edging backwards. Heart in his throat. Too out of it to even comprehend. Incapacitated with fear. 

The thoughts are accelerating inside his head. He wants them to slow so he can breathe but they won't. His heart is hammering inside his chest like it belongs to a rabbit, running for it's skin. The room spins, he squats on the floor, trying to make everything slow to something his brain and body can cope with. He feels so sick. He wants to call for help but he can't. 

All he can do is slip on the floor, huddled in the corner. He feels like the world isn't really there at all, like it was stolen and replaced with something empty, fake. It makes sense in a weird way, the real world gave him feelings of joy. He felt connected to it, every part of it. But either it was taken away or Mike was, every second of every minute of every day all he can do is float into the void. The void of never ending pain and emptiness. He's fallen into a black pit in the depths of his mind. 

And no one can help him out of it. 

________________________

"Rob, you might wanna come over here." Steve says. Will, still attached to him. He let's Will cry into his chest, moving them from the doorframe and halfway into the brightly illuminated hallway. 

"Who's at the door?" Robin shouts from the other room. 

As Will slips to the floor, back resting on the wall of the hallway, Steve catches him, cradling his head on his hands. Their foreheads so close, they're practically touching. 

"What happened?" Steve asks, softly.

Will doesn't respond.

All he can take in is Robin running towards them, the fear in her eyes, panicked shouts, and Steve calming him down. Occasionally hushing him. Will cries more than he has in a long time.

_________________________ 

Time has passed, Will knows this as he examines the room, head on top of his, now, numb arm, laying down on a bed. The room is illuminated by the glow of a small lamp on the bedside table. Burgundy bed sheets covering him. He's no longer wet. And seems to be wearing Steve's clothes? They changed him? 

He sees Robin, sitting on the bed in front of him, smiling as she watches him open his eyes. "We thought you were dead for a good second there." She says in her silky, calming tone. 

Will searches around the room, his eyes going to the door. 

"Steve went to go get you water," She reads his mind. "… And he's making you food." 

_Will can already hear their lectures about 'eating' and how he has to because he's too 'thin'._

"Can I ask you something?" 

He nods his head, slightly. 

Robin purses her lips, and in that movement Will can see her eyes tearing up, "The burn marks on your chest," 

_She knows._

"It's nothing." He stops her frantically, speaking for the first time, his voice hoarse, and now he finally feels how dry his throat is. 

She continues on, looking ready to drop the tears down her cheeks, "Did you do that?" 

Will doesn't reply back. _She knows. Steve knows too. What are they gonna do to him? He doesn't wanna get shipped off to a hospital. A psych ward. He doesn't wanna be a prisoner, trapped, with the intention of preserving life_ _. ~~So what if he wants to end it?~~ _

"W, Why? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell us?" 

He feels a hot tear prick down his cheeks. "I couldn't." 

"Why?" She asks again, rubbing the tears away, "I could have helped you. Stopped you from doing that." 

"I'm sick," Will's voice is shaky. "You can't help me." 

Robin takes a more serious tone, trying her best to stay strong, "If you _ever_ feel like doing something like that again, tell me. Damn it, Will you have to talk to me. Talk to someone. Don't hurt yourself, please." 

She wraps her arms around him, in a hug, he puts his face on her shoulder, melting into her warm touch. One last tear falling from his face, he can hear Robin's sniffles. 

Steve bursts through the door, "So I've got pasta and-" He stops in his tracks, looking at them, and placing down the plate of pasta and the glass of water on the bedside table. Sinking down into the bed. 

Robin breaks away from Will, and they both just stare at him for a second. Steve speaks, "You have to know that we love you. Don't - If something happens to you who's gonna hang out with us?" He lightens the mood, the corners of his lips tugging up into a sad smile. 

"You have Dustin." Will smiles back, shrugging. 

"Dustin is… Dustin." Steve lets out a little laugh, Robin and Will following suit. "You're you. Everyone loves you, don't forget that. Ever. Also, your mom?…Would have a _huge_ fucking heart attack." 

"I would have a heart attack." Robin says. 

"You would kill Robin. Don't do that to us. But most importantly don't do that to yourself." 

Robin shifts on the bed, lifting up her pant leg slightly past her ankle. She looks at her leg and then back at Will, sadly. She has scars all over. And that's only just _one_ leg. "I know what it's like," Robin takes Will's hand in hers, "You feel like you wanna give up on everything and just lock yourself away…or do much worse, but promise me - Please, Will, promise that you'll talk to me when you feel like that." 

Will's lip quivers as he nods. "I promise," he sniffles. ~~_He's not sure if he can keep the promise._ ~~

_________________________

And so as the quietness grows deeper, Will steadies his rhythm. Sitting at the kitchen table, picking at the oily pasta Steve made for him. The table is wood and round, leaving him on one side, with Robin & Steve on the other, looking at him diligently. They're like concerned parents that ask you to come and "talk" with them about grades or homework or whatever. You just know by the look on their faces it's not good. 

"What happened?" Robin finally asks, cutting through the silence. 

Will sets down the fork with a clink on his plate. "I don't really wanna talk about it." 

There's a moment of silence before Steve begins to speak, he brushes his hair out of his face, "Isn't it Lucas's birthday today? The _big_ '18. _'_ " 

"Yeah.. it is." 

"So I'm guessing you were at his house? I know you couldn't have walked from yours all the way here." 

"I was at Mike's." He responds, dryly. 

Steve looks taken aback, he crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair. Both Robin and Will look at him curiously as he figures it out. Will knows he's putting the puzzle pieces together. 

"So something happened between you and Mike." 

Will mumbles, "Something already happened." 

Robin motions with her hand, "Expand." 

"The real reason we, uh, stopped-," He can barely get the words out without tripping over them. Will looks down back to his plate of food, and around the illuminated kitchen, wanting nothing more than this conversation to be over, he can't look them in the eye as he says the next part, "He called me a faggot." 

"What?" Robin asks, but Will knows it's not a question. She understood him, and it looks like she's fuming _._ "I'm gonna kick his ass." 

Will stops her, "No!" 

_He's not even sure why he says it._

Both of them look at him, confused. 

"He's my soulmate." 

Their faces fall flat. They both look thoroughly disappointed, and disgusted _(not at Will)._ "Are you shitting me?" Steve replies. Will makes a little movement with his head, and Steve pinches the bridge between his brow and his nose, like he can't believe it. "Wow." 

Will dry laughs. "Yeah. Wow. My luck is just great. Of course my soulmate is a homophobic asshole, who also," He picks back up his fork and redirects his focus back on the pasta, ( _which he **really** doesn't wanna eat but Robin keeps on looking at him) _, "Used to be my best friend." 

___________________________ 

A knock on the door is heard. Steve gets up from the couch, already walking out of the living room and into the hallway, out of sight. They've been watching tv for the past ten minutes, flipping channels occasionally to find something good. The damned thing keeps on cutting out. 

_Must be gremlins._

"Want me to make popcorn?" Robin asks, her arm draped on the couch backing, her head resting on it, "We can relax, watch a movie, get fat.. sound good?" 

Will smiles. "Sounds great." 

He can hear the muffled sound of Steve talking to someone. Robin gets up from the sofa, walking a few steps into the kitchen. She flicks on the light, reaching in the cupboard. "Who is it?" She shouts, loud enough for Steve to hear her. 

"The kids!" He shouts back. 

_Jesus christ. They can't leave him alone for more than an hour?_

"They wanna know if Will's here," Steve pauses, "What do you want me to tell them?" 

"Go AWAY!" Will shouts. He doesn't wanna talk to them. Not right now. 

More muffled talking, then he hears El's voice and… Mike's? He's here? Why the hell is he here? Steve's voice is getting increasingly more irritated, Will can tell, even if he doesn't know the full context of what's going on. "Back the fuck away from me." Will hears Steve sneer. And that's when he has to get up and see what's happening.

He walks down the hall, watching as the situation gets more hostile between Mike and Steve.

The hallway overhead light begins flickering. Faster with each step Will takes. 

_Seriously, what the hell is happening?_

Will meets Steve at the door frame, not stepping outside, but now he can see everyone. El standing next to Mike, now wearing sweatpants, Dustin and Max paired together, Max wearing a jacket that Will knows is Mike's, and Lucas standing off to the side, shifting his weight between his two feet as he shivers.

"Stop it!" Will shouts, and they break apart. The flickering of the light dissipates, as Will continues on, looking at Mike, taking in his form. 

He has the kind of face that stops Will in his tracks. He guesses he's gotten used to that, the sudden pause in his natural expression when he looks Mike's way, followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. Of course the blush that accompanied it was a dead give-away. He has tousled black hair, which is thick and lustrous. A little coil from his curls coming out of his raincoat hood. His eyes are a mesmerising deep brown, flecks of light performed ballets throughout. 

Will remembers his playful smile. His perfect, soft lips. His hands, a little bit bigger than Will's, that held his as he stared deep into his eyes. 

He saw none of that. He felt none of that. Will didn't know who he was looking at. "Just go home, Mike. Stop pretending like you actually care about me." 

Mike backs away from the door, stumbling as he walks backwards, then Will looks at the rest of them, unable to glance at Mike another second. “I’m fine guys, really. Thanks for coming to check on me but I’m good.” 

Will looks at his sister. “I’m gonna stay at Steve’s tonight. Please tell mom when she gets home.” 

“Sure,” She smiles sadly. 

“You're the best. Love you.” He says to her. 

“Love you too. Feel better.” 

“Thanks.” 

They tell him to feel better, Steve shouts something unintelligible at them, and all Will can focus on is Mike. The blood pounds in his ears. His heart thuds in his chest. His hands shake. Will’s vision disfigures, as if he were looking through a fish-eye lens. 

_You should hate him,_ Will thinks _. You should hate him for what he said. He’s not worth it. Is he?_

He can’t hate him, no matter how hard he tries. 

Will clutches the door knob as Steve closes the door, head resting, his hands wrapped so tightly around it that his nails are practically digging into his palms. Breathing is hard. _Really_ hard. He hears the stifled sob he gives out, a great tremor overtaking him as the tears race down his cheeks, he can hold the heartbreak no longer. He swipes at his eyes but the tears come anyway. Once that first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. Will falls to the floor in a disheveled heap as his grief pours out in a flood of uncontrollable tears. He should have known it was gonna be _this_ type of night right after he ran out of the Wheelers. 

“Hey. Hey.” Will hears Steve say, as he embraces him letting the torrent of his tears soak through his shirt. Steve can probably hear him silently screaming, suffocating with each breath. He runs his fingers through Will’s hair, in an attempt to calm the silent war within his mind. 

Steve and Robin lead him to the bedroom, and he flops down on the bed, knees drawn close to his chest, hugging a pillow tightly, accepting the torment. Creating a huge pool of tears. His lungs rummage for oxygen, and his sobbing has the same force of drowning. The flesh under Will’s ribcage throbs, his cheeks burn, and his mind brings up memories that make the tears continue.

~~**_well, if we're both going crazy then we'll go crazy together, right?_ ** ~~

~~**_yeah, crazy together._ ** ~~

There’s no way he’s doing anything else but crying for the remainder of the night. 

  
  



	5. Book Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shifts his weight on both legs, bringing the phone extension with him to the soft burgundy chair in the living room, plopping down on it. Will exhales as he speaks again, one hand pinching the arch between his eyebrows and his nose, the other clutching the phone. He just wants to sleep. "How do you know that?" 
> 
> "El called me last night," He looks into the kitchen, glaring at her. She sends back a similar expression, shrugging her shoulders. "She told me what happened. Everything that happened," Great, now El's telling everyone his business. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings - mentioned self-harm thoughts. very brief suicidial reference and internalized homophobia.

The late autumn breeze pinks his cheeks. The warmth that had been in the wind just last week had either evaporated into the sky or leached into the earth. A sign that winter is to come. The frigid air has a way of keeping him in the moment, wicking away body heat faster than it is replaced. It's one of those days when normal clothes aren't enough, when they feel thinner than they are. Breaths rise in puffs, hands stuffed into pockets tightly and there is a briskness to his movements. His only desire right now is to get to his car and get the hell out here. 

Thank god for Robin giving him the day off. He can just go home and be comfortably numb, wrapped up in tons of blankets. Asleep until he dies. That would be preferable. 

His mother called. Three times, to make sure Will was okay and safe. She wanted to talk to Will directly, not Robin. He assumed El didn't tell her what happened for him to be staying the night at Steve's, and for that he was thankful. Steve had offered for him to stay but Will declined for two reasons. One, his mom would go crazy with worry. And two, he doesn't wanna be around Steve and Robin anymore _(as bad as it sounds)_ , he thinks he just needs to be alone. Untampered with. Although home might not be the best place for that, that's where his bed is. He learned that Robin moves around a lot in her sleep, flailing her arms and legs, and Steve? Will could hear his snoring all the way from the living room. 

He leans his head against the wheel, closing his eyes. He wants to cry. Scream. Rage. But now he can barely feel a thing. If it was anyone else Will would have gotten over it by now. Two years goddamn it. Almost three by now. If it was Max or Dustin.. or even El. But with Mike it's something different, a different kind of heartbreak. Truly knowing he'll never be with his soulmate. Mike was always there for him, always present. Ever since that fateful day Will said yes. If anyone would accept Will it would be Mike. His best friend. Their relationship has always been more than that - meant more to Will than with anyone else. Maybe that was the problem. He was too dependent from the beginning. 

______________________

Entering the house is an easy auditory bath of sweet music from the radio, his eyes are greeted by old family photographs and the well-loved furniture of years. "I'm home," Will calls out, taking off his boots and jacket. Leather doesn't react well to water. He knows that now. 

"Will?" Three voices call out. His mother, El, and he knows the last voice is Max. 

He turns around the bend straight into the kitchen taking in the sight of the three of them, Max and El sitting by the table as Joyce cooks breakfast. All in their pajamas. He feels like this morning is going on forever and it's only 11:30. A song he knows is familiar fades out, leaving quietness until he speaks again to his mom, who wraps him up into a big hug, "I'm okay if you're wondering." He audibly muffles over her shoulder. "More than okay." 

As they break apart Joyce looks at him, analyzing every bit of his face, searching for a speck of untruthfulness. If she notices anything, she doesn't say it. "I'm making pancakes.. did you eat yet? Do you want some?" 

"M' Not hungry. But thanks." 

His mom turns her back to the kitchen wall, and he walks over to the table. Hovering over it as El and Max look at him vigilantly with clear worry. Max raises her eyebrow, and talks in a hushed tone, "Are you actually okay though?" 

El adds on, "Friends don't lie." 

He knows that by now. 

"I'm fine. Promise," He picks at his shirt sleeve unconsciously, "But y'know thanks for- Oh shit, Nancy!" 

How could he forget about her? 

Will races to the phone, dialing the Wheelers number. Hopefully Mike wouldn't be the one to answer. Static. The number is dialing- 

"Wheeler Residence how can I help you?" Karen's voice comes through. 

"Hi, Mrs. Wheeler. It's Will. Can I talk to Nancy?" 

"Sure." She clasps the receiver, shouting, "Nancy! Will's on the phone!" 

He hears Mike in the background, "Will's on the phone?" 

"It's not for you! NANCY! PHONE!" 

"Jesus, mom. I'm coming!" Nancy shouts back. 

In a second Nancy responds, "Will? I was just getting ready to go to your place. I'll be there in a few-" 

"Actually I'm not feeling that great today." He cuts her off, "Can we have a rain check?" 

"Is this about what happened with my asshole brother?" 

"Hey!" Mike screams. 

"Shut up dickhead! I'm on the phone!" Nancy counters. 

"Language!" Mrs.Wheeler says feverishly. 

He shifts his weight on both legs, bringing the phone extension with him to the soft burgundy chair in the living room, plopping down on it. Will exhales as he speaks again, one hand pinching the arch between his eyebrows and his nose, the other clutching the phone. _He just wants to sleep._ "How do you know that?" 

"El called me last night," He looks into the kitchen, glaring at her. She sends back a similar expression, shrugging her shoulders. "She told me what happened. _Everything_ that happened," Great, now El's telling everyone his business. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"I don't know." He shrugs as if Nancy can see him over the phone, "What was I supposed to say? Your brother told me off?" 

"I don't know.. we just usually tell each other this stuff." 

Will takes comfort in the older Wheeler sibling, although every time he looks in her eyes, all he can see is Mike. Their similar features. They're similar but at the same time, very different mannerisms. Their shared stubbornness and determination. 

Staring isn't quite the word for what Nancy does, though she'd fit the dictionary definition to a t. Her eyes rest, not unblinking but slowed; yet the effect is soft and inviting instead of harsh. Perhaps it is her lips that give away her intention, not quite smiling but tilting as if they mean to. She always gives him an occasional glance as the conversation slows, cutting into her blueberry pancakes. Too bad he's too fucked to go out in public right now.

"...Yeah, I know." 

The static fizzles as silence protrudes over the phone line. "Ok." Nancy says after a moment, "I'll see you later then, I guess. I'm not sure if I'll have time because of my paper but we'll figure something out. Love you little brother." 

"Love you too, Nance. Bye." 

"Bye." 

He gets up, attaching the light blue phone back into the wall. He walks past the kitchen and down the hallway, shouting, "I'm going to sleep!"

When he enters his room it's in a manic state, much like him. Clothes thrown everywhere on the floor, covering almost every inch. Random garbage thrown on his desk and left there. Ripped up and discarded sketches on his closet floor. Will sighs, flopping down onto his bed on his backside. Wrapping the duvet cover over his shivering body. He needs heat. He craves it. If they weren't in the kitchen he would- 

_You're supposed to keep your promise. Stop hurting yourself._

The music that brings Will to dreamland is a song he's positive he's heard a thousand times before and never enough. The chords are like a well worn path, one his brain follows so willingly. In moments he is asleep, body relaxed, and breathing steadily.

____________

Several hours have passed by now. Will made his way out of his cocoon of a room and into the common area, chatting with his sister, mother and Max as Joyce got started on dinner. Max left shortly after, claiming household duties she had to catch up on. Will wishes things would get better with her situation and step-father. He's been a lot more crazy lately, having regularly scheduled outbursts that end in Max's mother being hurt. Or even Max herself.

It's not until Joyce asks him to watch a movie with her and El does he realize he's been so focused on himself lately, he's been icing out the most important person in his life by far. His mom. 

"Sure. I'd love that." He smiles at her. She smiles back, sweetly. In her eyes are the reflection and reminder of pain, grief, loss. She's been through so much. Stuff she definitely shouldn't have been in. The image of Lonnie slamming her up against the wall burns deep in his mind. 

He disregards the negative thoughts and images as they make their way to the couch. El brought with her a huge bowl of microwave popcorn. Just as the first bite of cold wind creeps under his pajamas he leans his head on his mother's shoulder. In seconds his body is moulded to her own, sharing her body heat as easily as she shares her heart. She smiles at him, warm and soft as the movie begins to play. A soft fuzzy blanket is draped over them by El, words that Will can no longer decipher being said. The title sequence of The Breakfast Club plays. 

  
  


_August 19th, 1985_

_Movie nights at the Wheeler's were always chaotic._

_"We need to watch Back to the Future! What good is it to have it on tape if we never watch it?" Dustin reasons._

_"No! Gremlins." El says, "It’s me and mom’s favorite movie,"_

_It was initially weird when El started calling Will's mom her mom too, but after a few weeks Will learned it wasn't that odd. She lost her father. And her birth mother. She needs a strong maternal figure in her life. He and Jonathan tried their best to welcome her, and not be bitter for having to share a room because El's now staying in Jonathan's. He didn't know what to say to her. Yeah, he’d met her before but they never really talked. What exactly do you say to the girl that saved your life two times in a row?_

_"We've seen that like twenty times this month. I vote for Stand By Me." Will replies._

_Lucas takes a tortilla chip from the bowl, crunching on it, "Me too."_

_Max looks at him, then smirks, "I vote Back to the Future."_

_"Mike?" Dustin asks._

_Lucas bumps his shoulder, grinning, "You know he's just gonna go with whatever Will says."_

_Will looks at Mike, who's smiling at him, and somehow he can practically read his thoughts. He's totally voting for Stand By Me._

_"Oh, god. They're doing it again." Max says, breaking their moment, pointing a finger between the two._

_"The freaky mind reading thing." Dustin adds._

_"Perks of being best friends since we were five." Mike smiles, then turns his gaze back to Will, "Also, being tragically in love with William Byers." He jokes, putting his hand up to his head, dramatically. In that motion Will sees their string pull them close together._

_"Oh, fuck you." Will says back, a heat crawling up to his cheeks, tinting them light pink._

_"Right here? In front of everyone?" Mike replies, trying his best to stifle his laughter, "...Ok, babe."_

_"Oh, god. And I thought you and El were bad." Max says, after a second of complete silence and everyone staring at them like they're crazy, "We get it. You're like totally gone for each other." She jokes, but it hits a little too close to home._

_"It's movie night and we're not watching movies," She continues on, "Put the goddamn tape in the tv already." Mike frowned, but complied with her request, getting up from the couch and fumbling to the tv, awkwardly, inserting the vhs._

_As the movie started, the kids assumed their normal positions: Lucas and Dustin right smack in front of the TV, Max and El cuddled on the recliner chair with a grey blanket over them, and Mike and Will on the couch with a foot of space between them._

_Mike scooted closer to Will._

_Will’s heart rate sped up. Why was his body doing this? His palms started to sweat, and he felt the sudden urge to- he's not going to even think it. Not going to validate it._

_Deep down, he knew what was going on. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t. Mike's his soulmate. He's known it since they first met. It was later reinforced, time and time again._ **_Especially_ ** _reinforced after their fight that day in the rain. Everything sort of fell into place, how he felt when Mike was around, how he felt seeing Mike and El kiss. How he felt watching them break up. And it's not a platonic link. Then he thought that everyone was like this, and got like this when they saw or were with their close friends. He knew that wasn’t the case. The link must be romantic. But how? He's not queer. He's not like that. He's normal._

_Right?_

_Towards the end of the movie, both Mike and Will got incredibly tired. They could barely keep their eyes open. Mike laid his head on his shoulder, which made Will's heart jump and an electric current go down his spine. Underneath the blanket, Mike interlaced their fingers, sliding them together. Will intentionally slowed his breathing, already dozing off._

  
  
  


**_CLICK!_ **

_And they're both jolted awake. El hovered above them grinning, holding a camera out. “I’m saving this.” She says as the film whirs out._

_“Ooo.” Max smirks, body sprawled out on the carpet, “Blackmail?”_

_“Yup!” She pops the word, then looks between the two, “You know, you two look really comfy… The Wheeler's and Byers just can't stay away from each other.”_

_Will was right, she’s definitely hanging out with Max too much._

_Will takes in their current position, it’s_ ** _very_** _different from before. How did they even get like this? Mike’s arms are wrapped around his waist, his head on his chest, their legs slotted together, and they’re taking up the entirety of the couch. Their legs dangling off of the small yellow sofa. For the most part Mike kept his head buried in Will’s chest, his black tufty hair splayed out as he spoke, “Leave us_ _alone.”_

_It wasn’t unusual for them to be touchy, but this was next level. They’d never really cuddled like this. Well, there was that one time Mike had a nightmare while Will was staying over. That doesn't really count because he was under distress. Will’s heart is beating more rapidly every second. He felt the heat of Mike’s body warmth melt onto his own skin._

_He can see Mike’s chest rising and falling, with every breath he takes, as he’s practically on top of Will at this point. No sense of personal space whatsoever._

_“Hah! Finally.” Dustin says, as he emerges down the stairs, licking_ _the chocolate pudding off of his spoon. Lucas followed closely behind him, clasping onto multiple bags of cheese puffs._

**_What exactly does that mean?_ **

_“I swear to god, if anyone says anything else, I’m kicking you all out.” Mike groans into his chest, grabbing for Will’s fingers again, slipping them together._

_“I’m pretty sure there’s one person Mike isn’t gonna kick out.” Lucas teases, and Will watches as everyone nods, grinning._

_Mike looks up at him, and it seems like Will is the bigger out of the two, although Mike has a good three inches over him. As Mike leant forward Will’s pulse raced. Looking into Mike's eyes he saw deep pools of dark brown that displayed his soul. His lips touched Will's cheek. Time stopped. His heart came to a halt. His breath caught in his throat. They're fingers locked together similar to puzzle pieces. The soft brush of Mike's mouth left the side of his face, the exact spot burned and tingled at the contact. A hot blazing fire pulsed throughout him. A small grin crept onto Mike's face and his cheeks painted themselves rose red. He buried his face back into Will's chest, silently._

_"Are you guys happy now?" Mike snarks back to all of them._

  
  


Will's breaths become unsteady. He has no idea what's going on in the movie or what was just said. The tv audibly hums. The glass cracks. It short circuits. Flames arise. Joyce jumps up frantically running into the kitchen, throwing water on top of it. _Holy shit._

____________

It was all chalked up to the TV being extremely old. Although that didn't explain the glass cracking, and Will could have sworn he saw El looking at him weirdly. _Almost like she knows something is up._

He sits down in his hard wood seat, Mrs. Crenshaw going on and on about her character analysis of Romeo and Juliet. Dustin gives him the occasional glance to see if he's alright and Will responds with a quick, short smile. Other students tell their take on the play. Most of it is just sexual jokes riddled with deeply ingrained misogynist ideas. Then it's Mike's turn. He says the usual crap. It's not like Will was expecting anything else from a dumb _(honorary)_ jock. He caught Mike staring at him two separate times. Two times! Will kept on grimacing at him then turning away. Mike did that thing that he does all the time when he's disheartened, he slumps his shoulders and slightly frowns, furrowing his eyebrows. 

"Does anyone else have anything else they'd like to share?" Mrs.Crenshaw asks in her squeaky voice. Silence fills up the classroom. 

Will speaks up for the first time ever in that class, it seems like, and immediately regrets it. "I do." 

"Go ahead." 

He proceeds to look Mike dead in the eye, "Did you even read it?" He says passive-aggressively. "Romeo wasn't in love with Juliet because he was still in love with Rosaline. He was thinking about her minutes before he met Juliet. The whole reason he went to the Capulet's party was because he wanted to see her. So of course he's gonna like the first girl he sees, who's the cousin of Rosaline, who could help him get his mind off of her and his unrequited love. He uses her the entire time. And then there's Juliet who's no better. She uses him so she doesn't have to marry Paris. She also wanted to rebel from her parents, so she obviously chose the guy from the family her parents hated. The entire reason behind her taking the poison is because she doesn't wanna get married to Paris. She uses Romeo as an excuse for that. She would rather die than get married. Romeo kills himself because it was too much for him to love two people at the same time. Juliet was thirteen and had never been in a relationship before. And Romeo was known to fall in love a lot. If you were actually paying attention, the timeline of how long they were together was five days. Pretty short for it to be considered "love". Romeo and Juliet isn't a love story. It's a tragedy." 

His eyes break from Mike and back to the teacher as she speaks, shoving her glasses back up her nose. "Good take on it, Mr. Byers. C." 

_A C? The kids that had put no real effort into it got higher grades than that. Mike had gotten a higher grade for the generic shit he spewed._

"Oh, that is such bullshit." Dustin looks at him like he's crazy. Will can't even see Mike's face but he assumes it's something of a similar nature. _The quiet kid finally snaps._

"Excuse me?" She says, one hand on her hip, eyebrow quirked like she can believe what she's just heard. 

"I don't know.." He shrugs, "It's called reading in between the _fucking_ lines." 

"Mr. Byers!" 

____________

He got two days of after school detention and an F. _How wonderful._

Will used to see the world as it was, a beautiful array of colors and shapes, ideas and formulas, voids and space, love and fear. It was all a canvas that left just enough space for him to paint his own story. All he sees now is bleakness, pain, and suffering. Endless shadows and eye piercing white glows. 

The tone of the painting is muted, the style reminiscent of Monet. Each stroke has a smudging quality that renders the image watery, like a reflection in a rippled puddle. The scene is a street in New York. He paints from memory from when they had last visited Jonathan. Umbrella bearing pedestrians battling against the rain and yellow taxi cabs rumbling by. Rain-splattered windows and rivers of people that moved in each direction. They all moved so randomly, pushing against one another, flowing, like water. The mixed paints decorate his arms and hands. Will brushes a hand to push his hair out of his face, and as he does so a stain of light green drapes itself across his forehead in a streak. 

The painting is all in bright oils but somehow it's still dark. It reminds Will of the poison that can lurk behind a pretty face, the subjects that had that look about them, like beneath the smile is an entirely separate thought track. It unnerves him. Like the people are looking out from beneath their own skin, like their flesh and bone is no more than a mask. The brush strokes are tiny and controlled. 

Perhaps it would be nice to never be anxious, always in complete control, never attached or love sick. But he couldn't wish it, not really. It's in his DNA by now. It makes him, well - him. 

He's around eighty five percent done and almost three and a half hours in, when he hears a knock on his window. He disregards it, thinking maybe it was the wind. Or a tree branch. 

Then the knock comes again. 

Will pushes his seat away from his desk, getting up. Abandoning his piece for now. He pushes the curtain from the window away, opening the window in a few seconds. The wind rushes into his room and chills his already chilled bones. When he peers out, all he sees into the dead of night is a figure bolting down the street. Then he looks at the roof by his window. A rock sits on top of a book, holding a note in place. He clambers out, reaching for the items, and throws the rock down to the ground with a thud. 

When Will resituates himself at his desk, he reads what the note says in the dim light of his room. 

_I think you were right. Fuck Mrs.Chrenshaw._

_Here's another play by Shakespeare you might find annoying. Tell me what you think._

_-Mike_

He scoffs, then takes the book in his paint stained hands. All's Well That Ends Well. 

_Ironic._

  
  
  



End file.
